


Stargazing

by MeltedIceAngel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anorexia, Asthma, Cancer, Chemotherapy, Chenle's learning how to be strong, Chenle's mom is in this sometimes, Cute, Cutting, Depressed Huang Ren Jun, Depressed Na Jaemin, Dreams and Nightmares, Feeding Tubes, First Dates, First Kiss, First Love, Five Stages of Grief, Fluff, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jisung loves Chenle, M/M, Mention of current events, Park Jisung (NCT) is Whipped, Protective NCT, Protective Park Jisung (NCT), Radiation Treatment, Rare Cancer, Romance, Self-Harm, Soft Na Jaemin, Supportive Jisung, Surgery, Tracheal Cancer, Tracheostomy (not graphic), Zhong Chen Le is Whipped, Zhong Chenle centric, cute flirting, they both love each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 81,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeltedIceAngel/pseuds/MeltedIceAngel
Summary: Chenle’s life had been full of colossal, defining moments. The first time he ever released a song, the day he auditioned for SM, his first stage as a member of NCT Dream. His life was written in the stars as a grand affair, and it was doubtable anyone could deny that.It made sense then that Chenle would be one in seven people diagnosed with a rare form of tracheal cancer. One might call it ultra-rare, with all the fanfare one usually gets when discovering something of that classification in a game or movie. His whole life led to the moment the doctor gave him a year to live, and suddenly his dreams of being a world-renowned singer were all in vain.What if he was told he may not have just a year? Maybe he could stretch it to two, or five, or forever. His story isn’t over, the ink not yet dried. Chenle was born for great things, and he intended to push himself far beyond his Earthly limitations. One in a billion? Yeah, that sounded like him. One in seven billion sounded even better.





	1. PART I: No Reason

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to be half and half focused: romance and angst. 
> 
> I have wanted to write a medical story for a long time, and after a bit of researching, I decided I wanted to play around with rare disorders. I had been fighting between three types of cancers, but since I had more access to Tracheal cancer since it's what we were covering in class, I settled on that. There have only been seven confirmed cases of this type of cancer in the world, so bear with me. I have been following stories of the people inflicted with it to try and create a timeline, so I hope that will help. 
> 
> I wrote a lot of this from experience with doctors, as well as...certain people I've had the "pleasure" of watching work. Sometimes it's nice to follow people to know what not to do.

Performing was exhilarating, shockwaves that started in his toes and sizzled their way up to the top of his head. The loud shouts of the fans, the silence of the stage, and the harsh, nervous breathing of his members made the adrenaline spike and explode through his being. There was no movement save for the excitement of the crowd, and yet Chenle still felt as if he’d just finished a marathon.

The music began with the harsh beats of drums, and he moved to stand in formation in sync with his members. Jeno took center stage, with Chenle just to the left as they began the opening sequence. Some say that the difference in style was the most evident at that moment, with Jeno’s commanding and fierce body roll contrasting the younger’s flowy, graceful one. 

Chenle moved off to the side, watching as Donghyuck moved to take the center from Jeno. The mint-haired boy was still amazed by the way Donghyuck’s voice resounded so clearly through the stadium. It was flawless, layering over the original recording with a harmony that made Chenle’s ears tingle. Even as he moved to continue the dance, he was in awe of his voice, and Renjun’s taking over was just as mesmerizing. 

Chenle couldn’t deny that his favorite part of performing, was actually getting to perform. He took his place with a smile and allowed the energy to guide his movements. Renjun and Jeno moved in sync with him, their dance highlighted by Chenle’s stable voice harmonizing with the original recording. He felt satisfied as the focus shifted from him to Donghyuck, and he allowed himself to fall back into the neverending awe of his members. 

Jaemin commanded the stage well, Chenle knew. His captivating smile and new pink hair left everyone with weak legs, and his voice was solid and boomed through the stadium. The fanatic screams in the crowd left the boy with a broad smile, and Chenle noticed that his dancing was a bit more fierce than it had begun. 

When it was Jisung’s turn to stand center, Chenle had to retract his previous thought. His favorite part of performing had to be watching Jisung dance as if he had been born for no other purpose. 

Jisung was powerful and strong, but graceful and elegant in a way Chenle had yet to see in another dancer. The young Taemin, but all he could see was the uniqueness of Park Jisung. His feet hit the ground with enough force to shake the room. Still, he made no sound. His movements were sharp yet somehow fluid, and everything came together so beautifully that it was a wonder anyone could look away.

Even when Chenle and Jisung had their special duet together, he wondered if anyone spared him a glance. 

The rest of the performance went by in a similar state of observation and performing. Up until Jisung’s hand was laid shoulder, and they were marching their way toward the end of the song. Chenle finished out his last line and settled down in his final pose, smile settled proudly on his face. They’d done it. Another performance in the bag, more screaming fans happy, and hopefully satisfied managers waiting for them off stage. 

Mark was ushered off immediately after Dream exited the stage, a video of their performance for him to critique awaiting him in one of the staff waiting rooms. Their leader had skipped off behind a tight-lipped, but smiling, manager, and Chenle could feel the positive energy buzzing through the air. 

“You look pleased,” Jisung plopped down on the couch with a huff, sweat trickling down his face to splotch the white of his shirt. Chenle beamed, his shoulders shrugging up as he settled back into the soft, expensive material behind him. 

“I am. We did really well today,” Chenle responded. Jisung gave him a grin that dulled in comparison to any outside observer, but to Chenle, that small upturned lip meant more than all the teeth a more massive smile would’ve shown off. 

“I feel like I messed up on--”

“Nope, you did great. Don’t start knocking yourself,” Chenle shot up out of his seat to cover Jisung’s mouth. The younger glared at him, his tongue snaking out to leave a wet stripe up Chenle’s palm. The mint-haired boy shrieked and wiped the defiled appendage on Jisung’s nice jacket, not caring what the stylists would think. 

“I don’t know how you can feel so confident,” It was strange to hear the awe in Jisung’s voice. Usually, it was Chenle amazed by Jisung. 

“I don’t know if I am. I just know to always smile,” Chenle answered honestly. Brown eyes looked deep into brown, and for a few minutes, the chaos of dressing, makeup, and last-minute practices died out. Everything became quiet, soothingly so. It was just Chenle and Jisung; Chenji, the single entity made from quiet nights and stressful days. 

Chenle caught himself watching Jisung as they tried on their outfits for their upcoming music video shoot. 

His hair, freshly styled, curled elegantly in a middle part. Chenle always favored Jisung’s natural hair, but the sun-kissed blonde, just a shade lighter, accentuated the boy’s features beautifully. His eyes wandered to the dark, sapphire blue turtleneck that hugged Jisung’s slender neck and fell messily over his torso. It looked aesthetic when paired with the even deeper blue uniform jacket, emblazoned with the face of a roaring lion just under the right upper pocket. His lithe, tall body was accentuated by the tasteful use of tight black pants, and the black Chelsea’s added another inch that the boy didn’t need but worked exquisitely with the rest of the look. 

He looked stunning, and Chenle was struck dumb. He didn’t realize that Jisung had been watching him back until he returned his gaze to the taller boy’s face. 

“Does it look nice?” Jisung scuffed his Chelsea’s on the tiled floor, and Chenle was lost for words. There were so many things he could say, _ you’re gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, _ but none of them wanted to come out in the open. 

“You look--” Chenle waved his hands around as if he would find the words hidden in the air. “Perfect.” Jisung looked down bashfully, pink-tinted cheeks pulled up in an embarrassed smile. 

“You too,” Jisung’s voice cracked, but neither of them paid it any mind. Renjun would say later that they had smiled the dopiest smiles, before finally pointing in opposite directions and leaving the other flushed and giddy. 

It was -- apparently -- the most disgusting display of PDA Renjun had ever seen. Chenle thought that nothing was worse than Mark and Donghyuck when given more than five minutes alone.

It was during an impromptu game of karaoke at the dorm that Chenle caught Jisung staring at him. 

He and Renjun had been belting out the lines to Boss, the dance flowing smoothly thanks to their countless hours of obsession. They moved in sync, their voices were on pitch and easy on the ears despite their out of breath excitement. Mark, Donghyuck, and Jeno were all whooping and bopping to the beat, encouraging them with periodic shouts and fan chants that they’d picked up from concerts. 

Jisung and Jaemin, however, were sitting on their worn, tattered couch. They bopped their heads to the beat, but they didn’t join the wild mosh pit their three friends had created. Chenle’s eyes lingered a bit too long on Jisung’s relaxed frame, and that’s when it hit him.

Jisung was watching him, and not in the same way his three friends jumping around in front of him were. 

His brown eyes were gentle but piercing, his irises visibly moving with each change in position Chenle made. It must have been evident that Chenle noticed; he’d faltered on a simple move and almost missed his cue to sing, but Jisung didn’t try to hide it. He quirked his lips at the embarrassed flush on Chenle’s cheeks and kept staring. 

Renjun and Chenle finished the dance, one with more finesse than the other. Renjun joined in with the three still standing, a conversation picking up as they filtered off toward Jeno and Jaemin’s shared room. Eventually, Jaemin bid Jisung a goodnight and followed, a sideways glance at Chenle leaving him feeling exposed and a bit nervous. 

Jisung sat still on the couch, and Chenle stayed rooted to the ground where he’d been dancing beside Renjun. Socked feet scuffed the carpeted floor as a thick tension settled over them. Chenle didn’t know where the strain had come from, but it felt as if he could drag his fingers through the air, and they’d come up dirty. He could taste it when he opened his mouth to inhale, the sweet taste of honey with the heaviness of molasses. 

“Can I talk to you?” Jisung coughed, his gaze falling to the loose string in his pants. There was a pause before Chenle worked up the courage to plant himself next to his friend -- his best friend -- on the couch.

“I was wondering--” Jisung bit his lip, looking everywhere but at the boy sitting directly beside him. Chenle wanted to reach out a hand to soothe him, but his nerves kept them still in his lap. “--if you wanted to go on a date. With me.” Jisung added the last part as if it were an afterthought.

Chenle felt his mouth drop. A date with his best friend. 

It didn’t sound too bad.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Chenle answered quickly. It had taken years to get to the point he was comfortable admitting his to his crush on Jisung, and half that time to feel comfortable with the fact that nothing would ever come out of it. 

Hopefully, it took no time at all to get used to the fact that something good may just take nothing’s place. 

A week later, it was back to practicing for their next comeback, their first without Mark.

Chenle would’ve loved to be fully immersed in the dance, but there was something more pressing commanding his attention. 

His chest hurt.

It had only been half an hour, long enough to run through the dance three times all the way through, and he felt as if he’d run ten miles without a break. He was out of breath, his throat aching and dry when it was time to go again. They got into position, and it became painfully apparent that Chenle was the only one struggling. 

Usually, Chenle used his idle standing time in performances to sneak glances at his members. Jisung had a center part early on in the song, but air refused to reach his lungs, and that drowned out everything else. His chest was tight; someone could settle a fifty-pound weight on top of him, and he could argue that it would feel no different. 

Chenle moved to the front as his solo part came up, the rest of the members falling into step behind him. Even if Chenle didn’t have the chance to look at his members, they had all the opportunity to look at him. 

The usually easy, fluid moves of the lead up to the chorus became a challenge. Chenle couldn’t pretend to sing through his gasping, the words in the recording drowned underneath the forced exhales. Every part of him was shaking like a hummingbird’s wings, uncoordinated and useless.

It was Donghyuck who called the break, and it took only a moment’s thought before Chenle was running as fast as his legs could manage toward the bathroom. He could hear feet pounding after him, but his only cohesive thought was to find a toilet before he threw up that morning’s breakfast all over the freshly cleaned floors. 

Chenle ran into the bathroom before falling to his knees. A small heave was all his body needed before all he’d eaten splattered on the white porcelain before him. A hand was carding through his hair, deep whispers of comfort brushing against his ears. 

He couldn’t breathe, his stomach barely giving him enough time to pull in a small exhale before he was throwing up again. Once, twice, three times, his body convulsed, before it stopped as suddenly as it started. No clear bile, no smaller amount of fluid, just finished like someone put a cap back on an exploding soda. 

He gasped and lifted himself, shakily, away from the toilet. Jisung was beside him with a wet towel to pat his face clean, and a hand around his shoulder to keep him steady. 

He still couldn’t breathe. 

“Are you alright, baby?” Jisung put his hand to Chenle’s heaving chest, rubbing soothing circles over the aching muscles. 

“Can’t breathe,” Chenle choked out, pulling a desperate inhale through his nose. 

“I’m going to go get Renjun-hyung, okay?” Jisung stood up and ran, his voice echoing down the hallway as he shouted for help. Chenle had wanted to grab onto him, but his arms wouldn’t move from where they were still propped against the toilet. 

Chenle tried to lift his head to stare at the door, but all that greeted him was the fuzzy outline of the cubicle. He blinked slowly, his eyelids staying glued together. His head hit the toilet seat as his body crumbled to the ground, the sound of the door opening muffled and far away. 

“Breathe in.”

Chenle inhaled for the fiftieth time in the last five minutes, his brain already foggy and dizzy. The doctor moved the stethoscope to another part of his back and repeated the same line. Chenle inhaled and exhaled as he watched the clock tick. It was getting close to lunch, and Renjun had promised to take him out for something delicious. 

_ “Let’s get something good for lunch, yeah? Everything will be alright,” _ Chenle thought back to the ride from the studio to the hospital. They’d had to place something -- he couldn’t pronounce it in Korean no matter how hard he tried -- in his nose to help him breathe, and he’d only just managed to feel comfortable as they arrived. 

“One more time,” The doctor instructed, and Chenle inhaled with new vigor. The man removed the instrument off his back and stalked away, leaving the now orange-haired boy enough freedom to settle back on the bed as he waited. Jaemin and Renjun were settled in chairs against the wall, their eyes trained on the doctor.

Renjun looked like he wanted to say something, perhaps something about making the boy dizzy after he’d just fainted. He was settled back in the chair with his right leg crossed on top of his left, pointer finger pressed to his lips as he glared at the back of the man’s balding head. Jaemin, however, was puckering his lips and sending the boy finger hearts to try and get him to laugh. Chenle rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself.

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” The man exited the room with no other words. Renjun scoffed and unfolded himself.

“We’re fine, we don’t need to know what you’re doing. He only fainted after not being able to breathe for half an hour,” Renjun grumbled, throwing his hands up. Jaemin smiled sadly at the smaller man, his arm snaking around lithe shoulders to try and soothe him. 

“It’s okay, Ge,” Chenle said in Chinese. Renjun’s face stayed parallel to the floor, but his eyes looked up to catch the other boy’s. Always so worried, Chenle thought. “I’m sure he has a lot of patients. It must be hard to handle it all.” 

“Then he shouldn’t be a doctor,” Renjun bit. “I want to know what’s going on.” 

“We will,” Chenle tried to appease. “Can you hold my hand?” If there was anything that would make Renjun break out of his shell, it was Chenle’s vulnerability act. The smaller was up almost instantly, Jaemin’s hand dropping dramatically. 

“I’m sorry, Lele. I’m just--”

“Worried. I know, you’re a good older brother,” Chenle smiled sweetly. Renjun looked down bashfully, but it was clear that he had broken through another of Renjun’s walls. 

Fifteen minutes later, the doctor returned with a white box and several sheets of paper. He placed the documents on the gleaming counter and opened the box, a small, blue inhaler in his hands. 

“This is an albuterol inhaler. Use it before any strenuous exercise,” The doctor explained, holding it up for everyone to see. “I’m going to stress the strenuous part. I don’t advise using this daily. You can become tolerant to it. Do about ten to fifteen minutes of varied warm-ups before exercise. I’d like to see you get and use a humidifier as well. It’ll help your respiratory system. Try to wear a mask if it’s cold or dry out. Warm, humid air will be the best for you,” The man explained. Chenle was struggling, his lack of Korean skills striking him. 

“I’m sorry, you’re speaking to fast,” Chenle said, holding his head down sheepishly. He didn’t want to see the annoyed look he knew the man would be wearing.

“It’s okay, I got everything,” Jaemin said, rubbing his hand soothingly up Chenle’s back. “I’ll explain it to him.”

“Okay,” The man shrugged and grabbed the papers. “These are your check-out papers. Hand these to the woman at window two, and you should be all set.” The man looked right past Chenle to hand the paperwork to Jaemin. All three of them bowed as he exited, but none of them immediately made to leave.

“Did he say what’s wrong with me?” Chenle asked. He was still unsure about the instrument the man had passed to him at some point during his clipped sentenced speech. 

“No, but the paper says Exercise-Induced Asthma,” Renjun explained in Chinese, reading over the check-out papers with furrowed brows.

“Do you not agree?” Chenle’s voice was small and weak. He didn’t like the way Renjun was looking at the papers with something akin to distrust. It was like everything he was reading was preposterous, the information given by someone incompetent. 

“He doesn’t have that you threw up on here, or that you couldn’t breathe properly for half an hour. Far before we began anything strenuous,” Renjun complained. Jaemin placed a hand on the elder’s shoulder and shook his head. Chenle could read the body language. _ Not here. _

Jaemin helped Chenle hop off the paper-covered bed, the crinkles piercing through the thick worry seeping off Renjun. They made their way out of the room in silence, Jaemin only saying a few words to the receptionist before they were hopping in their car and driving home.

They should be happy. Exercise-induced asthma was something easy to handle. As long as Chenle always had his inhaler on him and followed the rest of the advice, there should be no problems. He didn’t think their managers would be concerned or angry; there were plenty of idols with asthma that continued to perform well. 

Chenle couldn’t get passed Renjun’s reaction easy enough to feel relief. He couldn’t read the detailed report very well, but the thought that certain things had been omitted felt strange. He couldn’t imagine a reason why his throwing up would be throw away information, but Chenle wasn’t a doctor, and he didn’t know how the process worked. 

Jisung had run to him before the car had a chance to come to a complete stop. He pulled the door open and crashed his body onto Chenle’s, his long arms wrapped impossibly tight around smaller shoulders.

“You’re shaking, baby,” Jisung whispered thickly, his tears running in rivulets down Chenle’s neck. 

“It’s been a scary day,” Chenle said, using the lull in conversation to bury his face in Jisung’s neck. The younger didn’t flinch when the other’s hands found their way inside his hoodie, cold and shaking. 

“Go cuddle him,” Jaemin whispered into Jisung’s ear just loud enough for Chenle to hear.

His day ended wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms, tears left in the backseat of their car.

Chenle wheezed his way through their fourth run-through of Boom. 

Their choreographer was watching him with slitted eyes, finger hovering dangerously over the pause button. Chenle stared back, willing him to just allow them to finish despite his apparent struggling. They would never end at the rate they were going, and he refused to be the cause.

He pulled out his inhaler on one of his idle parts, puffing the medicine into his lungs and hoping that that one would be the one that works. He’d already used it three times within the past hour and a half, and it had only given him minor relief. He was back dancing when his part came up, but he still couldn’t pretend to sing. His airway felt so tight a ramen noodle couldn’t fit through. 

“Chenle,” The choreographer said, pushing pause. None of the members showed annoyance, but he could feel it in the air. He could see it in the way they scraped the ground with the toes of their shoes, the way their eyes met each other’s as they broke formation. Chenle looked down and clasped his hands together. “I’d like you to sit down until you can take your next dose.”

Their manager found him in the breakroom, desperately trying to pull air into his lungs twenty minutes later. He sat down heavily, but Chenle didn’t look up. His vision began to blur, and his head was far too heavy. 

“Are you taking it correctly?” The manager asked.

“Yes, exactly as the doctor told me,” Chenle was exasperated. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked that question, and likely not the last. No matter how many times their manager read the instructions and observed Chenle himself, he still couldn’t accept that it wasn’t user error. 

“You’ve been keeping up with your diet?” 

“Yes,” Chenle wheezed and bent in on himself. 

“This needs to get better soon. If it doesn’t, you’ll be watching your friends from the audience,” The sound of the door opening and closing felt like a strange sense of finality. They were done accommodating him. He was a nuisance, nothing more than a lump of a body that couldn’t even breathe right.

They would kick him out, no doubt. If he couldn’t get his asthma under control, all that he’d worked for would be taken from him. He’d be sent home to China with nothing but the knowledge that he hadn’t been enough, and it was all his fault. His parents would be so disappointed. They’d always been so proud of him, and he was letting them down.

All because his lungs didn’t want to work with him.

Mark was with him the second time he visited the doctor.

It was less dramatic that time; his manager had scheduled the appointment after the fifth consecutive practice he was forced to sit out, and Mark drove him. They sat in the waiting room for fifteen minutes and were seen in thirty. 

The same doctor from the first visit entered the room with a tray of instruments and vials. Chenle looked at them wide-eyed, his hands grasping at the paper underneath him. Mark gave him a warm smile and took his hand.

“We’re going to run a blood test today,” The doctor looked at Mark. He must have remembered the last time when Chenle couldn’t understand him. How embarrassing. 

Chenle squeezed Mark’s hand tight as he wrapped the rubber just above his elbow, the feeling of that alone enough to induce panic. He hated needles, especially ones that had to stay for long periods. 

“You’re alright, Lele,” Mark whispered to him as the doctor placed the needle. Chenle flinched, gripping Mark’s hand tight enough to ache. He bit back the tears pushing behind his eyes, and before long, the man had two vials of blood and was removing the tourniquet from his arm. 

“If I’m having trouble breathing, what will blood tell you?” Chenle asked curiously, but the man didn’t respond. He placed the vials in their respective spots and removed his gloves, tossing them in the trash. 

“He’s busy, Lele,” Mark tried to explain the hurt away, but it still stung. Chenle didn’t like being ignored, especially when it was something to do with his health. He wanted to know. 

“I’ll be back with your check-out paperwork,” The man said, turning toward the door. 

Chenle didn’t look up until something circular and colorful was placed in front of his face. He smiled at the doctor and took the grape lollipop out of his hand. 

Jisung always looked stunning.

It was Saturday night, eight pm. The sky was dark blue with splotches of dark grey clouds, and a few blinking stars fighting to be seen. There was a sliver of pink and orange from where the sun had dipped below the horizon. Any other day, Chenle would boast about the beauty of such a sight. 

That night, however, Jisung stole the spotlight from all of the skyward wonders. 

The boy’s freshly dyed blue hair stood out amongst the dark blues of the sky, illuminated by the porchlight just outside the dorm’s front entrance. His makeup, done by Jaemin, made his face sparkle brighter than any star he’d ever seen in Seoul or Shanghai. He was wearing a blue and red floral bandana tied around his neck like a choker, and his white shirt fell just far enough to show off a bit of collarbone. The look was finished off with his black pants that hugged his legs and a pair of black converse. 

Chenle knew he had a problem with staring, but something was endearing about the way Jisung would always wring his hands and blush madly whenever he stared just a bit too long. 

“You look beautiful,” Chenle smiled wide, taking in the outfit once more. Jisung’s body was worthy of all the stares, but for one night, Chenle allowed himself to think the other boy was his to admire. 

“You too,” Jisung whispered awkwardly. Chenle giggled and came to stand next to the taller boy, only taking a moment before he was on his tippy toes. He pressed a chaste kiss to Jisung’s cheek, reveling in the heat he’d caused. Jisung was so cute. 

“Where are we going then?” Chenle asked, fiddling with the sleeves of his blue, fuzzy sweater. Jisung was staring at him, openly and unabashedly. It made his cheeks warm, and he wondered if he looked more like tomatoes or strawberries. Jisung was, for sure, a strawberry, the ripe ones that taste the sweetest. 

“I thought we could go get ice cream,” Jisung said, pulling his eyes away from Chenle’s outfit. The two stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, before both of them were giggling awkwardly, hands pulled up to their faces. 

“Sounds nice,” Chenle smiled, fixing his white turtleneck. Jisung moved to help him, the tips of his fingers leaving burning tracks all along Chenle’s neck. His face had to be deep red by then, probably enough to rival the coldest star in the sky. 

They walked hand in hand to the ice cream shop five minutes from their dorm. They talked about work, school, and a few times they stopped long enough to admire a puppy racing down the street. It was the same one each time, fluffy and white, with its tongue sticking out. It reminded them of Shanghai when Jisung had jumped, and Chenle had laughed at him because _ who’s afraid of a puppy? _

The doorbell tinkled as they opened the door into the chilly shop. There were few people there, so it was nice and quiet with plenty of seats open. They ordered their ice cream, and Jisung whipped out his card to pay for both at the last second. Chenle slapped him in the chest but smiled graciously anyway. 

“By the window?” Jisung asked, taking both of their cups to carry. Chenle nodded and lead them over to a nice booth looking out over the park outside. Jisung settled himself directly across from the other boy, sliding him the ice cream dramatically. Chenle didn’t think he’d ever giggled like a schoolgirl more in his life. 

“It’s a nice night,” Chenle said, taking a spoonful of his ice cream. Jisung stared at him before shaking his head. “What?”

“We’ve known each other for years. You don’t need to small talk me,” Jisung said, wiping a bit of cream off of Chenle’s bottom lip. The burning in his cheeks was back tenfold.

“Okay, did you ever break your losing streak on Arena of Valor?” That led to an easy hour of exclamations about bad teammates, overpowered champions, and explaining that it was far easier to play AoV than League of Legends on Chenle’s side. 

They had gotten to the bottom of their bowls when Chenle felt it. That tightening in his chest. He tried to cough through it, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth to try and stave it off. Jisung trailed off after a while, noticing the struggled inhales and exhales.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asked worriedly, already moving to stand. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Chenle said, reaching into his back pocket for his inhaler.

It wasn’t there. He’d left it on his bed, all the way back at the dorm.

“Did you forget it?” Jisung stood up from his seat and rounded the table, supporting hands under Chenle’s armpits.

“It’s on my bed,” Chenle gasped, hand pressed to his sternum. It hurt so bad already. The walls were turning from a nicely colored pastel green and pink to a blurry mix of the two. The lights felt ten times brighter, fluorescent instead of how they were made to be. Relaxing, perfect for a night out. 

“Let’s go--Chenle!” Jisung shouted as Chenle’s legs gave out, his body hitting the ground with a loud thud. He could hear the patrons screaming, asking for an ambulance. The last thing he held onto was the sound of Jisung telling him everything was going to be okay, that they’d get help.

His chest gave one final lurch before everything went black.

Chenle woke up in a bleak, dull hospital room. The room lights had been turned off, so the only visibility came from the rays of the hallway. His door was cracked open, but he couldn’t see anything outside of it. He felt dizzy and nauseous. He wanted Kun or Mark. Renjun and Jisung. He wanted his mom.

He laid still for a moment, and before long, he saw a man in a flappy white coat stop just outside his room. Chenle stared as Taeyong, Mark, and his manager came into view. They were being told something terrible, he could tell by the way Mark crumbled in on himself, sobs loud enough to be heard from his bed escaping from his mouth. 

He started crying long before Mark ran to him, his arms wrapped so tightly around Chenle he thought he might suffocate. Taeyong held his hand, and their manager stood a few paces back to give them space. 

“We’ll figure this out, everything will be okay,” Mark sobbed, brushing his hands through the boy’s dyed hair. Chenle didn’t know what would be okay, or what they’d figure out, but he’d already begun wondering if he was right or wrong.

It was only when Mark calmed enough that Taeyong could pull him away from that their manager stepped forward. He settled on Chenle’s bed, one foot hanging off, and took the young boy’s hand in his own. He took a long, deep breath, and looked into Chenle’s red eyes.

“The CT scan they gave you when you arrived showed a tumor in your trachea,” Their manager said, and Mark was crying again. Chenle’s lip wobbled, and his hands shook as they came up to cover his face. “I’m sorry, Chenle.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)


	2. PART I: Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His first day of chemotherapy was lonely, more than anything. Chenle walked through the automatic sliding doors into the front lobby, signed in at the front desk, and settled into one of the many chairs to await his turn. He was twenty minutes early, and by the looks of things, there were plenty of others before him in line. To try to pass the time, he had his phone cushioned on his leg, a book opened to the first page. He could barely see the words, let alone read them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another story I'm sure you all thought I forgot about. Here it is, chapter 2.
> 
> QUESTION: I know that a lot of people are going through similar struggles. I find the idea of including the current pandemic interesting in the progression of this story, especially along the lines of immunocompromised individuals and how they are affected. Would any of you be interested in this, or is it a bit too personal?

There was something crawling up his chest. Elongated, sword-like fingers gripping his chest and pressing, deep and painful, where his heart should have been. There was a bitterness about him, an anger so deep and all-encompassing it blurred his vision and weighed his body down. The balding, four-eyed doctor had told him that of all lotteries in the world, he had to win the one that had left no one alive to tell the tale. 

Somehow, within twenty-four hours, Chenle was left barely afloat in the middle of an icy ocean, no shore in sight. The lifeboat he’d been given ripped from underneath him with no hesitation or remorse. 

He was alone. The room darkened as the night wore on into the early morning, less and less noise coming from the halls until it was eerily silent. Chenle’s hand found its way to his throat, shaky fingers catching on the plastic embedded in it. Tears trickled down his cheeks, glinting in the glow of the monitors. 

Breathing had become more manageable and yet impossible at the same time. When Chenle allowed his mind to wander to other things, like the birds flapping uselessly against the stormy wind outside his window, breathing came easily. It was when his attention turned back to the stillness, the lack of air flowing through his nose and mouth, that it became hard again. His crying choked him, yet no sound escaped.

The world had not only ripped the ground from under his feet, but it had also silenced him, trapping him in a Hell of unspoken pleas and questions. 

The sun crawled its way over the horizon, bathing the room in a soft, orange glow that did nothing to soothe Chenle’s worries. The darkness of night was still settled behind his eyes, blinding him to the reality that life goes on. He was stuck, locked forever at eleven twenty-seven pm.

Mark pushed the door open, two cups of coffee clutched in shaking hands. His eyes were dark, tear tracks sticky and glistening on red cheeks. Neither of the cups was for Chenle, but both would be gone just as quickly. Mark was exhausted.

“Morning,” He rasped. Chenle gave an upturned lip as a response, his fingers ghosting over the whiteboard at his side. He didn’t have anything to say.

“Jisung really wants to be here,” Mark said. Chenle swallowed painfully. The thought of Jisung seeing him as he was, without his ever-present smile and that thing in his throat, he couldn’t bear it. It was hard enough dealing with the change without seeing how Jisung, the one person he wanted to always be happy, was breaking apart because of it. 

The wind sighed, a depressing flow that shook the leaves of the trees. Chenle stared, swallowing painfully. He wondered how many times the branches could smack the window before it gave in, scratches turning to cracks, which one day shattered. The wall would be left gaping, vulnerable to whatever had the foresight to sneak in before it could be repaired. 

Had Chenle done something wrong? Perhaps he should have rested more when he was struck down with colds. Exercise was supposed to be good for the immune system. Maybe if he had run the treadmill with Jeno, or biked with Jaemin, he wouldn’t have plastic embedded in his throat. 

Maybe he would have the promise of living to see the New Year.

Chenle grasped the whiteboard marker in his hand, black like the thoughts swirling through his head. He popped the cap open, scribbling messy Korean. He cared so much about how his writing looked, wanting it to be pretty and flawless because it had been Jisung who helped him. His heart lurched at the barely legible handwriting, but he held it up to show Mark anyway.

_He can’t see me like this_, Chenle wrote. Mark wiped away a stray tear.

“He won’t see it, Chenle. He’ll only see you,” Mark said, finishing his first cup of coffee in three gulps. Chenle zoned out, whiteboard marker tapping rhythmically on the whiteboard. Tap, tap, tap. Mark stared openly, mouth opening and closing as if to ask something. Tap, tap, tap. 

_He will be sad,_ Chenle wrote, refusing to catch Mark’s gaze. Chenle still heard the sigh, the upset click of a tongue, and the older shifting until the bed dipped underneath him. 

“He will be, but he will be a lot happier seeing for himself that you’re here. He’s been distraught,” Mark said, playing with the hair falling over Chenle’s ears. “Can you imagine how much his face would light up hearing he could come to see you?” Chenle looked down, mulling it over in his head. He could see the elation in his mind’s eye, but the pain and sorrow were still too preeminent. 

What was there to lose by agreeing to see Jisung? He wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed by the trach that had been placed. If anything, it angered him. Perhaps that was a good enough reason -- Jisung had never truly seen him angry, and Chenle didn’t want the first time to come quickly. 

Then there was the pressing problem of speaking. Chenle had so much he wanted to say to Jisung, but would the other boy be willing to sit as he wrote it all out? He thought he could wait until he received his speaking valve to see Jisung again, but the thought made his heart ache. A whole month more. It had only been a day. 

Tears fell uninvited down Chenle’s red cheeks. He didn’t realize how much his body ached for Jisung’s touch until he really thought about going without it. 

“Do you want him here?” Mark asked, face a bit too close for comfort. 

_I want him to be happy,_ Chenle wrote with shaking hands. Mark smiled sadly at him.

“Then let him come here,” Mark said, grasping Chenle’s fingers. The younger took one more deep breath before nodding his head, jaw clenched. Mark smiled brightly at him, bolting up and out of the room. His presence was sorely missed, Chenle’s side instantly chilled. 

The next time the door opened, it was slow and deliberate, almost nervous. Chenle looked down at the person’s feet, eyes catching on those Chelsea boots he’d admired during their photoshoot. 

“Chenle?” Jisung whispered. Chenle looked up, not trying to hide the tears he’d given up on stopping. The younger didn’t move, not until Chenle’s arms shot up from his side. He called for him silently, begging for the safety and love he had become so accustomed to in the short amount of time they’d been allowed. 

Jisung almost tripped over himself, collapsing into the bed. Chenle’s arms wrapped around the taller instantly, his face buried in the other’s shoulder. No sound escaped as Chenle sobbed, soaking the blue denim jacket Jisung wore, adding to the oppressive silence of the room. 

“Chenle, I am always here for you. Right by your side, no matter what,” Jisung said. Chenle’s heart lurched painfully. “I don’t care what happens, I am right here. You don’t have to be afraid, I love you. This changes nothing.”

Chenle cried harder, frustrated because of how much he wanted to say. Chenle's pointer finger brushed against his trach, reminding him of the cruel reality. He wouldn’t be able to tell Jisung anything for thirty days, that is unless it was written on a dollar whiteboard that had already begun to stain. 

“I’m here, Chenle. I’m here,” Jisung whispered, peppering kisses all over Chenle’s sticky face. 

Chenle wondered how long that would be true.

His first day of chemotherapy was lonely, more than anything. Chenle walked through the automatic sliding doors into the front lobby, signed in at the front desk, and settled into one of the many chairs to await his turn. He was twenty minutes early, and by the looks of things, there were plenty of others before him in line. To try to pass the time, he had his phone cushioned on his leg, a book opened to the first page. He could barely see the words, let alone read them.

“Zhong Chenle?” A woman called, blonde-haired and dead-eyed. Chenle lifted himself up out of his seat and stalked forward, coming to stand beside her. “This way,” She said, and off they went. 

He settled in a leather, nicely padded chair, meant to be comfortable but still sticking disgustingly to his skin. He sweat down his back, both from the exertion of merely walking the hallway to the fear bubbling beneath his skin. He held on tight to his phone, the one lifeline he had to his friends, and willed his anxiety to calm. 

“Arm,” The woman said, and Chenle held out his arm to her. She didn’t spare him a glance as she wrapped the horrible rubber tie around his upper arm, drawing two vials of blood and snapping the tie off in little time. He was quick to pull his arm back, the woman’s apathy terrifying him more than the bags of medication on the tray next to her. 

She was up and gone without a word, and Chenle felt the urge to cry hit him like a metal bat, punching a silent sob out of his chest. He wanted someone with him. Someone who knew how terrified he was, how insecure and unsure every little aspect of his surroundings made him. 

A new nurse came up to him, pitying eyes framed with round glasses. She settled what she had been carrying down and inched her way closer to him, settling down on one knee to better look him in the eye. “I brought you a blanket and a remote for your tv, does that sound nice?” She asked, and Chenle, despite not feeling up to watching anything, nodded yes. 

The nurse lifted herself up and grabbed the blanket, unfolding it and helping Chenle settle it comfortably over his legs. It wasn’t his, nor did it smell like anyone of comfort, so the overwhelming gut-clenching lingered. It was warm, a nice heated blanket that likely had soothed many a patient before him, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing ever seemed to be enough to calm him anymore.

Curious, Chenle reached for his whiteboard. It had been a week and a half since his diagnosis, and already had the first whiteboard been trashed. The new one, much nicer and less stained, was his new companion for the next three weeks. _ Did someone else have this? _ He asked, and she gave him a painful, tooth bitten smile. 

“It sat with the last patient through many hours here,” She said. Chenle nodded and decided not to press. He was smart enough to know where that story ended. 

The nurse who had retrieved him from the waiting room returned, monstrous frown and all. “Thank you,” Was all she said, bidding the nurse goodbye. “If you want water, ice, or anything to eat, let me know.” 

Chenle didn’t feel it was necessary to point out that he couldn’t respond verbally, and she had yet to actually look up at him. Nor was he currently allowed to eat solid foods. He instead wrote in shaky writing, _ ‘water?’ _ and waited an extended amount of time before she looked up. 

“I’m going to clean your hand and place the line in the back,” She said, only offering him a nod to acknowledge his request. Once the line was placed and she packed away all her supplies, she was already barking an order for someone to give Chenle water and watch to make sure he didn’t choke on it. 

A male nurse was the next one to come up to him, a small glass of water in his hand. He pulled up a chair and settled himself down, giving Chenle a soft smile. “I’m Nurse Park. I’m going to sit with you for a little while, just to make sure we manage to get you well hydrated. Alright?”

Chenle nodded but didn’t move to write anything.

“Small sips at first,” Nurse Park said, allowing Chenle to take his first drink from the cup. It felt weird going down, as if something was in the way, but it got more natural the more he did it. Once the glass was finished, he wiped Chenle’s face with a napkin and patted his knee. “You might feel a bit tired as the medicine kicks in. Do you know how to lay your chair back?” He asked, and Chenle shook his head. The woman hadn’t done much to explain anything.

Nurse Park took the next half an hour to thoroughly explain how Chenle’s many long, arduous hours would be spent the next few weeks. He could bring a computer and play games, bring a book, his phone, or a notebook to write in. He could take a nap or watch tv.

“I know we’re not on solid foods yet, so I will make sure to have something prepared for you. Your appointment is eight hours, so at around the halfway mark, I’ll bring it to you. Is that okay?” Nurse Park asked, and Chenle gave him a forced smile. Nurse Park had already been much more helpful than his assigned nurse, the least Chenle could do is pretend to appreciate it. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Nurse Park asked, looking him over. Chenle reached for his whiteboard and hesitated, unsure of what to write. “You can tell me anything. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t heard.” 

_ I want my friends here_, Chenle said, face crumbling. His tears ran in sticky rivulets down his cheeks, blotching his skin and clogging his nose. Chenle choked as he attempted to sniffle, Nurse Park quick to shoot up and grab a tissue to wipe Chenle’s nose clean. 

“I know mom and dad are in China, aren’t they?” Nurse Park sighed, and Chenle nodded sadly. “I have your manager, Lee Taeyong, and Qian Kun as emergency contacts for you. Do you want one of them here with you?” Chenle nodded fervently, blowing his nose to avoid a repeat of the last few minutes. 

_ Kun, please_, Chenle wrote, and Nurse Park was up and making the call. Chenle cuddled in on himself, wrapping the blanket tighter around him. He did feel exhausted. His eyes were heavy, his body pulled down. He’d at some point began to feel a bit light-headed, the lights above swirling into one. 

Without waiting for Nurse Park to return, Chenle laid back in his chair, eyes slipping closed.

“Chenle-yah,” A sweet, familiar voice called to him. Chenle blinked his eyes open slowly, his surroundings coming into focus like a game buffering on his old laptop. “Morning, baby. Your lovely nurse brought you something to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry.” Chenle’s heart filled with warmth, the crushing anxiety abating as that voice finally registered in his uncomprehending mind. 

Kun had come to be with him. 

Chenle looked up at his elder bandmate, his elder brother, and smiled tiredly. Kun cooed and brushed Chenle’s bangs back, lips pouted out. “Do you feel up to eating?” He asked, and Chenle nodded. With someone familiar and comforting there, he felt like he could successfully accomplish anything, even something as daunting as finishing an entire meal. 

Kun sat without complaining the entire hour it took Chenle to finish. He encouraged him with every sip, telling him how well he was doing and how proud he was. “Little Chenle, so strong. Look at how far you’ve already made it.” He’d said, showing Chenle the half-empty cup. 

Once it was all gone and Chenle’s hunger was abated, Kun pulled the blanket back over him and grabbed at Chenle’s lined hand. “You hold on, Lele. I’m right here.” Kun whispered, blinking back the wetness in his eyes. 

_ Okay, Eomma, _ Chenle mouthed with a smile. Kun chuckled wetly, but the smile fell away just as quick. Chenle’s dropped when the pain on his brother's face became all too noticeable. 

“No, you keep smiling. No matter what happens, you smile,” Kun sniffled, using a finger to lift one side of Chenle’s mouth up. The smile came back, a silent laugh joining it. Somehow that seemed to hurt his brother more, the quiet causing a physical jolt. “I’m okay, Lele. _Gege's_ just worried for you.”

_ I love you, _ Chenle mouthed, squeezing Kun’s hand tightly. 

“I love you, Lele,” Kun said. Chenle, overwhelmed, lifted himself up onto his knees. Kun tried to tell him to stay sitting, but Chenle had draped himself over Kun’s shoulder, face buried in his brother's shoulder. They were frozen in time for a moment, Kun’s hand floating just above Chenle’s back as the little, sickly body melted into the healthy one below. 

“You can sit,” A voice said, and Kun shifted until Chenle was cradled against him. He lifted Chenle up and settled down in the chair, and with a happy, relieved sigh, Chenle allowed himself to relax. 

“Do you want to watch tv?” Kun asked, but Chenle shook his head no. He wasn’t interested in pretending to enjoy reality shows or the small list of movies allowed. The only thing he wanted was for his brother to hold him. 

He wanted to pretend for a little while that his body wasn’t deteriorating in Kun’s arms. 

“Hold on, Lele,” Kun whispered into his ear. “It will get better.”

Chenle smiled and patted Kun’s back in response. 

“So young,” An older, high pitched voice said from above them. “How old?” She asked, and Kun’s body tensed. 

“He’s seventeen,” Kun responded, and the woman sighed as if physically pained. 

Seventeen. Was that truly all Chenle was getting from life? Seventeen short, short years. 

“Truly not fair, this world,” She sighed. 

Chenle wondered if she was right. If it wasn’t him, wouldn’t it have been someone else in his place? Did he, in some mathematical way, prevent someone else from experiencing this level of trauma in their own lives?

Chenle drifted off with that thought in mind. If he could pretend he was suffering for the benefit of someone else, it would make sleeping at night much easier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> I spent a lot of the time between chapter one and two researching and trying to decide what "opposite" I wanted for Chenle's character. A mean spirited, apathetic nurse did well to satisfy this criteria.
> 
> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


	3. PART I: Are You Hurting?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are we practicing romance scenes?” Jaemin asked, plopping himself next to Chenle and Jisung. “Let me demonstrate my favorite, the kiss the adorable maknaes until they’re screaming for hyung to stop, scene,” Jaemin said, tossing himself on top of Chenle and Jisung, attempting to pepper their faces with kisses. 
> 
> Chenle, both enjoying it far too much and still a bit weak, succumbed quickly. Jisung, however, was up and running almost the instant Jaemin had landed his first attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love you've given this story. I am going to go through and respond to all the comments soon. I appreciate how detailed and genuine each comment I get is. I want to make sure my responses are as sentimental. 
> 
> Thank you again!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the break from the angst in this story. I did MORE research, (my brain is melting) and I found out a lot of really useful things for this story. I wasn't originally going to have Chenle film or be part of promotions in any way, but I read and watched some vlogs and really tried to immerse myself in content created by cancer survivors, and a lot of them encouraged doing things that make you happy as long as it's not overly stressful and you can handle it. Hence, reintroducing Chenle to This and That after his first round of chemo ends. I tried to figure out the timeline of This and That with the Boom video release, but it made my brain hurt after so much oncology textbook reading. Do any of you have any idea where I'd be picking up at? I think it's the ramen video, but I'm not too sure.

The Boom MV was filmed without him, and somehow that was the biggest blow to the gut Chenle had taken thus far. Sitting in a chair, watching his members shoot the video for the dance they’d worked so many long, arduous months to perfect, and this was his role. Nothing. Twiddling his fingers and pulling the loose fabric out of his warm, oversized sweater he wore because he seemed to perpetually feel cold.

At first, they had given him a turtle neck and told him he could film his own singing parts. In the end, he hadn’t even managed to step up before burning nausea, and the numbing pain in his hands and feet became too overwhelming. His singing parts were dominated by group shots, his voice echoing over a space that could no longer hold him.

Jisung was always the first to return to him once his parts were complete. He allowed Chenle to lay against him, long, lithe fingers running soothing patterns up Chenle’s shaking arms. Jisung would sing, low and deep in his throat, and when the managers weren’t looking, he’d sneak soft kisses to Chenle’s lips as a promise that he was still loved. 

When it was time for them to switch locations, it was decided that Chenle would return to the dorm. The trips would be too many, and his body simply couldn’t handle it. No matter how many times Chenle tried to smile and pretend that he was fine, his manager gave him that pitying look and a half hug, telling him to go home and rest. 

The car drive back was silent. His driver had bid him hello, but Chenle, even with his speaking valve now one week old, couldn’t seem to get a word out. It still felt wrong. Foreign. No matter how much he wanted to talk, laugh, or yell, it always came with a level of thought and patience he hadn’t had before. He missed being able to speak without thinking.

The doctor had promised that one day it would come that easy to him, but time was inching slowly forward, and nothing had begun to come easy. 

Chenle laid in bed and cried himself to sleep, thinking about their fans and how disappointed they’d be when he wasn’t in the video. How angry and aggravated they’d leave comments, saying how weak he was and that he should’ve at least been able to stand still and mouth a few words. 

His members had done a lot of work to keep Chenle from seeing comments on their official announcement. They saved a few, editing around them to show how fans were encouraging him, telling him that he was strong and brave and that he would overcome. His name had been trending for a few days. It had warmed his heart in a way that his body seemed incapable of in recent weeks. 

It was the knowledge that there was something to edit out that ate Chenle up. He had stumbled across a comment degrading SM for keeping him on the team, but Jisung had been quick to take his phone and soothe him through it, promising that he still had a place. Could there have been more comments like that? Saying he was nothing more than dead weight, an empty spot in a formation that could easily be fixed? After all, Dream was nothing more than a group designed to lose members from the get-go. They could afford to lose Chenle.

What if he didn’t get better before his time to graduate, anyway? 

What if he didn’t get better at all?

Chenle dreamt about hiding his trach, plastering a smile on his face, and filming that music video. Going with his team to interviews and shows to promote their song. For a while, his body was weightless, no longer aching or weak. The constant nausea had finally left him. He felt free. Free of all the fear and uncertainty, the anxiety and slowly morphing depression that seemed to hold onto his psyche with a sticky, monstrous grip.

Chenle awoke to a pair of arms wrapped around his body. He smiled, recognizing that ridiculously long, muscled dancer body despite how exhausted his mind felt. He grabbed the hand settled just above his abdomen, kissing it once, twice, but still not getting a response. 

He wiggled, turning in Jisung’s hold to face him. He was fast asleep, mouth drooping open and hair a wild mane above his head. 

“Jisungie,” Chenle cooed, pressing his lips to his boyfriend’s over and over, not stopping until the lips underneath his responded back. They kissed soft and sweet, and Chenle realized this was the only other place he felt genuinely released from his pain. Wrapped in his boyfriend’s arms, bodies pressed together, lips moving so gently against each other that the smacks were loud as they pulled apart. 

Chenle looked deep into Jisung’s tired brown eyes and allowed a laugh to bubble out of his chest. He felt so happy, so at peace, just from staring into his boyfriend’s eyes.

Jisung gave Chenle a smile in return, framing the gaunt, pale face with his hands. 

“I want to go on another date with you,” Chenle said, his numb fingers traveling up to play with the collar of Jisung’s shirt. 

“What do you want to do?” Jisung asked, and Chenle felt the care in his choice of words. They knew that Chenle was not allowed to go out to popular, crowded shops or restaurants anymore. “So cute, stop pouting.” Jisung cooed, interrupting Chenle’s thoughts. 

Chenle buried his face into his hands, embarrassed. “Stop, you can’t just call me cute like that.”

“Why’s that? You’re the cutest, prettiest boy I’ve ever seen,” Jisung said, teasing lilt to his tone. Chenle just groaned and tried to hide how deep he was blushing. 

“I want to watch Endgame with you,” Chenle said, finally settling on something. They could sit in the living room together and watch the movie, and even if the other members joined, it still satisfied the deep longing in Chenle’s heart. 

“Sounds like a great idea, love,” Jisung said, kissing Chenle’s red cheeks. “But, right now, I want to know all that’s going through your beautiful mind.” 

“I’m just happy you’re here,” Chenle said, and it was true. Jisung’s presence was as all-encompassing as the feeling you get when a storm finally ends; the ground slick and the air smelling of rain and wet grass, yet all you can feel is an indescribable calm. 

Jisung’s nose crinkled a bit, his lips pulling in. “Now you’re making me blush.” 

“I love you,” Chenle sang, pressing his lips to each of the reddening spots on Jisung’s face. His cheeks, his nose, down to his neck.

“Quit it, it’s midnight,” Jisung said, pulling Chenle up and away from his neck. Chenle just rolled his eyes and pouted cutely, but Jisung stared back without flinching. “You know I adore you and your kisses, but I especially adore them when you’re not about to fall asleep on me.” 

“I’m not,” Chenle whined petulantly. He definitely was tired, but it wasn’t the same kind of fatigue he was becoming used to feeling. 

“My baby,” Jisung said by way of a response, pinching Chenle’s slowly receding cheeks. 

Chenle always saw it when it hit the people around him. The way they slowed their movements, their faces dropped, and their bodies either tensed or fully relaxed in defeat. Jisung did all of those at that moment, hands moving from their pinching teasing to a soft, careful caress. Chenle wanted to cry. He didn’t want his boyfriend to treat him like he was going to break.

If Jisung did it, then Chenle would have to acknowledge it. 

“Fine, I’ll go to bed, but you have to hold me all night,” Chenle said, forcing a smile onto his face as he jumped to his knees. Jisung put a hand up to steady him, but for once, Chenle was solid and unwavering. 

“I already do,” Jisung smirked, kneading Chenle’s shoulder. 

“I thought you said to quit because it’s midnight,” Chenle teased, reaching over to turn the bedside lamp off. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize massaging your shoulder was suggestive,” Jisung rolled his eyes. “What are you, fifteen?” 

“Ha-ha. That’s my line,” Chenle said, laying himself happily on his side. Jisung wrapped his arms around Chenle’s middle, the sound of his glasses smacking against the bedside table eerily loud. 

Chenle curled himself up, legs tucked up high enough he could feel Jisung’s bony elbows on his knees. Lean, slender fingers drew shapes and words on Chenle’s thigh, and he’d only managed to make out a sloppy I love you before he drifted off. 

Chenle knew something was wrong as soon as he opened his eyes.

Jisung was leaning over him, gently caressing his face and humming, deep and melancholy from his chest. They caught each other’s eyes, and Jisung’s bitten raw lips gave him a smile. 

They hadn’t been that red and cracked the night before.

“Hey, look at me, yeah?” Jisung said. Chenle did, but he was frantic as he grabbed Jisung’s wrist. “It’s alright, everything’s fine. I just want you to focus on me, okay?” Jisung said. Chenle nodded, the fear and anxiety suddenly smashing into his chest like a freight train. 

“What happened?” Chenle asked, turning his head to look behind him. Jisung was acting similar to when Chenle had his first nose bleed, the first time he vomited in his sleep, the first time he nearly suffocated on his own bodily fluids at three in the morning. Jisung allowed him to look, but it wasn’t without a firm grip on Chenle’s hand and a promise that he was there.

“_No,_” Chenle sobbed, deep and broken, as he grasped at the chunks of his hair that had fallen out. Jisung rubbed his arms, his back, massaged his neck, but nothing seemed to bring him back from the crushing realization. He was losing his hair. 

Chenle knew it wasn’t worth getting upset over. He’d known from the very start that this was the likely outcome of his chemotherapy sessions. Part of him was still stuck with a teenage invincibility mindset. It wouldn’t happen. So much had already happened, he wouldn’t lose his hair too.

Yet there it was, in small clumps on his pillow. He’d noticed it coming out more easily in the shower. Half a head of hair seemed to be left behind each time he brushed it. But now, merely laying and turning his head through the night was all it took. 

“Can you see it?” Chenle asked, reaching out for a tissue. Jisung, having already grabbed some, worked to wipe Chenle’s nose clean. “Please don’t tell me how pretty I am or how it doesn’t matter. Just tell me.” 

“Yeah,” Jisung whispered, for once giving into Chenle’s plea for a quick rip. Chenle looked down, lips wobbling and hands playing idly with his pant leg. He nodded, trying to seem as if he had readily accepted it. It didn’t take someone who knew him well to see how hard he was working to hold it together.

“It’s okay, I can get wigs, right?” Chenle said, tapping his fist on his leg, the slight twinges of pain grounding him. Jisung reached out to stop him. “There are some that look real. It’s not like I’m filming anyway. And you, you still--” Chenle had to swallow harshly, his throat burning. 

“I still think you’re beautiful, with or without your hair,” Jisung finished for him. Chenle still didn’t look up. 

“I don’t want them to see,” Chenle said. 

“Why, Chenle?” Jisung asked, never once pulling his eyes from Chenle’s face. 

“I want them to be happy,” Chenle said. “I keep thinking I should’ve just gone home. Then you wouldn’t have to see this.” 

“Chenle, I’m here through everything. This is nothing but a part of a journey I signed on for. I want to be there when you wake up and fall asleep. Everyday. For as long as God lets me. You know that if you want to go home, I will support you, but only if it’s because you _want_ to go home. Not because you feel like you’re burdening us with something.” 

Chenle didn't respond, instead asking, “Is Renjun sleeping in your room again?” 

“Yeah,” Jisung said. Chenle didn’t say anything. They already knew why he’d asked. 

“I love you,” Chenle said, and Jisung was quick to reciprocate. “I guess it’ll be kinda cool. I won’t have to shampoo, condition, rinse, towel dry, air dry, _ and _ style my hair anymore. I mean, I can just pick it up and put it on my head. Boom! Done!” Chenle said, exclaiming with his arms wildly enough he nearly smacked Jisung in the face. 

“Hey, you’re going to smack me, and then I’m _really _going to be sad,” Jisung pouted, pinning Chenle’s hand to the bed. 

“Oh, who’s the baby now?” Chenle cooed, leaning up to peck Jisung on the lips. 

“You,” Jisung responded, lifting himself up and off the bed. “Let’s go suction your trach and get breakfast. I’m starving.” 

“I’m not,” Chenle stuck his tongue out, thinking of the various flavors of liquid meals he’d have to choose from that morning. 

He missed ramen. And chicken. Cake too. 

“I’ll make you the chocolate one if you get up and get dressed before nine,” Jisung promised, pulling a sweatshirt over his nightclothes. Chenle looked at the clock, 08:54 blinking back at him. He was quick to pull himself up then, making sure he was steady before pulling a new shirt and pants out of his closet.

“Park Jisung! No fair!” Chenle said, opening the door and walking to the, thankfully, empty bathroom.

Jisung just smiled stupidly as he left.

They end up together that night, all on top of each other as the nostalgic Marvel intro plays in the background. It wasn’t the date Chenle had in mind, but it was somehow better, a large chunk of the people he came to love like family all sharing one space. 

Mark and Donghyuck, despite not living in the same dorm, had been quick to book it down to Dream’s dorm when they heard about the last-minute movie night plan. Even with their next day schedules, there they were, tossing overly salted pieces of popcorn at each other on the floor, Mark whining about the mess while Donghyuck puckered his shining lips at him. 

Renjun, Jaemin, and Jeno, all squashed together like the single entity many believe them to be, were only partially involved in the mess-making process. Sometimes, Renjun or Jaemin would chuck a piece of their own--much less unhealthy--popcorn into the fray. Donghyuck would pick it up with a disgusted frown and toss it back, usually hitting an innocent Jeno on the head.

“I don’t want your diet popcorn,” Donghyuck said, but Renjun simply explained that they didn’t like theirs melted into an unrecognizable heap at the bottom of the bowl. Donghyuck ate his soggy popcorn with overdramatic moans of pleasure through the entirety of the intro. 

Chenle and Jisung were cuddled up on the only remaining spot left on the couch, meaning they were effectively squished up against the edge. Jisung had forgone popcorn in favor of sharing a popsicle with Chenle, him having already finished his half and moved to steal from Chenle. 

“Okay, shut up, it’s my man,” Donghyuck exclaimed, waving his hands in everyone’s faces to try and quiet everyone down. 

Chenle really enjoyed himself for the first time in over a month. After spending eight days living inside that drab white hospital room, then running back and forward nearly every day since, it had been too long since he’d been surrounded by so much happiness and carefree energy. 

His friends ooh-ed and clapped as Tony Stark bid the aliens a witty farewell, then laughed loudly as Bruce Banner failed to bring out the Hulk. Chenle and Renjun, both long time Spider-Man fans, jumped up excitedly as Peter Parker came on screen. Doctor Strange got wide-eyed wonder from Jeno and Mark, and Jisung flinched a bit whenever a fight scene got a bit too hairy. 

“Yeah, kick his ass, tree,” Donghyuck whispered as Groot appeared, copying the character’s movements. Chenle giggled, tongue poking out between chapped, dry lips.

“Rabbit is my favorite character, I think,” Jisung said, seemingly very serious in his realization. 

“I like Pirate Angel the best,” Renjun responded, just as serious, without taking his eyes off the screen for a moment. 

“Guys! What about Steve Rogers?” Jaemin pouted, immediately lifting himself up with a horrible attempt at Captain America’s expression. “_I am Steve Rogers,_” He mimicked the iconic scene, getting a laugh out of everyone. 

The first movie ended with half of the group shooting up to go to the bathroom or get more snacks, the remaining half settling on Endgame and waiting. Jisung was playing with Chenle’s fingers, forming them into different types of animals and mimicking their sounds. Chenle giggled, head falling forward like a schoolgirl interacting with her first crush. 

“I-” Jisung said, pulling Chenle’s pinky away, mimicking a dog’s bark. “Love-” He did it again, “You.” Chenle pulled his hand away and turned it on Jisung, pretending to bite at his boyfriend’s nose. Donghyuck, who had returned only a few minutes prior, groaned dramatically on the ground.

“Oh my God, when will it end? The torture! The absolute _torture!_” Donghyuck whined, grasping at his heart and pretending to suffocate. Jisung and Chenle both smiled wickedly, taking each other’s hands and morphing their faces into the picture-perfect love birds.

“Oh Jisungie, I can’t tell you how much I love you,” Chenle teased, and Jisung gasped, grasping at his heart.

“You could never understand how deep, how raw, my love is for you,” Jisung said, hiding his face. He was embarrassed, Chenle could tell, but he was enjoying Donghyuck’s writhing too much to stop. 

“Are we practicing romance scenes?” Jaemin asked, plopping himself next to Chenle and Jisung. “Let me demonstrate my favorite, the kiss the adorable _maknaes_ until they’re screaming for hyung to stop, scene,” Jaemin said, tossing himself on top of Chenle and Jisung, attempting to pepper their faces with kisses. 

Chenle, both enjoying it far too much and still a bit weak, succumbed quickly. Jisung, however, was up and running almost the instant Jaemin had landed his first attack. 

“Ah, hyung!” Chenle screamed, trying to shove Jaemin off of him. 

“My adorable, adorable, Chenle!” Jaemin said by way of a response, peppering his face with a few more kisses before lifting himself up, leaving Chenle a mess of limbs all splayed out on the couch. 

“Are you trying to break our kid?” Jeno asked, pinching Chenle’s cheek. 

“I’m trying to show him how much I love him! My _ actual birth child _ is hiding in the corner over there,” Jaemin pouted, pointing to where Jisung was hiding behind one of the fake trees behind the tv. 

“Jisungie, come back. I want to start this,” Renjun whined, hand flinging the remote around dramatically. Jisung inched his way out from behind the tree, eyes trained on Jaemin’s every move.

“Hey, you act like I’m going to hit you or something,” Jaemin said, rolling his eyes. 

“I don’t like affection,” Jisung dramatically stuck his tongue out, pretending to vomit.

“You and Chenle cuddle all day!” Jaemin whined, obviously trying to fake his way out of real jealousy. 

“We all love you, Nana. Now can we please watch this?” Donghyuck said, pointing toward the slowly dimming screen.

“Can I run to the bathroom first? I’m sorry,” Chenle asked, but everyone was quick to reassure him that he was fine. Chenle smiled and lifted himself up, hand upon his head as if he were merely scratching an itch. 

It wasn’t until he shut the door behind him that he pulled his hands away, more chunks of hair falling out into his palms. He didn’t cry that time; instead, he threw the dead pieces away and went to genuinely use the restroom, washing his hands and making his way back out into the living room. 

Jisung was looking at him in worry. Chenle knew Jisung had noticed the hair fall out. It was likely on the couch, orange standing out against the beige fabric, but no one else seemed to have picked anything up. Instead of telling Jisung he was okay verbally, Chenle plopped down next to his boyfriend, pulling one of his long arms up and over his own shoulders. 

“Chenle-” Jisung started, but Chenle just gave him his blinding eye smile and pointed toward the tv. 

“This is the one I wanted to watch with you!” Chenle exclaimed, bouncing in his excitement as the movie was finally allowed to play. Jisung stared at him for a long moment, but eventually, his attention was back on the show, worry slowly abating. 

It was the first time in Chenle’s memory that it wasn’t just he and Jisung fast asleep in the living room. All of his friends, Mark and Donghyuck included, had fashioned an oversized bed on the floor and called it a night, all of them long asleep. Chenle, still laying on the couch, had his hand grasped in Jisung’s from where he had also fallen asleep on the floor. 

Chenle took the sight in, fearing not for the first time that it would be the last time he saw it. 

He laid still, letting his mind wander. He’d heard stories of how his friends had reacted when their manager had broken the news. Of all of them, to Chenle’s surprise, Renjun had been the worst. 

He’d heard that his older brother had collapsed to the floor, crying hysterically. Chenle couldn’t properly imagine the sight, and no one seemed to want to fully explain it to him. If he wanted to hear about it at all, it had to be when he was supposed to be resting when he first returned from a therapy session. 

Chenle remembered Mark’s remark about Jisung being distraught. Donghyuck had apparently walked off, locking himself in his room for an entire night. 

The only ones he didn’t know about were Jaemin and Jeno. 

Chenle allowed his eyes to roam over Jaemin’s lax face. He seemed content, not at all distressed or plagued with nighttime worries, but that didn’t account for much. Renjun, who everyone had been trailing like mother hens, also had the same contentedness about him in his sleep. 

Chenle wondered what his older brothers were going through. If Jaemin -- always so energetic and happy, so strong when the others weren’t -- was breaking silently. If he felt as alone as Chenle did each time he pulled that blanket over his chilly legs and sat for eight long hours, mind occupied only by the games on his phone. 

Jeno, too, was always so blindingly optimistic. He’d been the first to wrap Chenle up in a hug, telling him how happy he was to see him. He’d been the first to give in to Chenle’s desire to not give up his place in Dream. The first to lift himself up and learn how to keep Chenle well fed and clean his trach, painstakingly accurate, four times a day. 

“Well, if you’re going to stay with us, I’m going to learn how to properly care for you,” He’d said, and it was the last time Chenle saw him before passing out from exhaustion. Apparently, Jeno had been up all night, scouring the internet and reading each and every booklet the hospital had sent home with him.

Chenle’s mom had spent two weeks with them in the dorm, showing Jeno and Jaemin every little intricate detail until she was confident enough to leave. She entrusted teaching the others to them, and with a sad, awful goodbye, she returned to China to take help care of her new grandson. She would return soon to check up on them, but part of Chenle was afraid. He didn’t want her to see how much he’d changed physically in so little time.

“Are you hurting?” Chenle whispered as Jaemin’s lips twitched in his sleep. He wanted to be strong for his older brothers, especially without knowing how bad off they were. For all Chenle knew Jaemin and Jeno were being eaten up inside, the same monster clawing at Chenle’s heart tearing at theirs. 

“Lele, go to sleep,” A small voice said. Chenle looked over to see Renjun looking up at him, no remnants of sleep on his face. 

He’d been faking the whole time. 

“Sorry, _gege_,” Chenle smiled awkwardly. “Thinking about Arena of Valor. There’s a new champion I want to play.” Renjun hummed but didn’t argue with his excuse. 

“You’ve got plenty of time to play it, Le. Rest,” Renjun said, pretending to settle back down to sleep. Chenle did the same, wanting to see if Renjun would do anything once he determined Chenle had nodded off. 

Twenty or so long minutes later, Chenle heard a rustling sound as Renjun got to his feet. The couch cushion dipped beneath his brother, his small hand coming up to glide across Chenle’s face. 

“Don’t leave us, Lele. We can’t replace you,” Renjun whispered, his breath hitching. Chenle wanted to reach out, grab at his elder brother, and tell him he could never leave them. 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t say that anymore.

“I talked to your mom today when you were napping. She’s so happy that you have a solid support system. We talked about you as a child, and she sent me some videos of you singing in grade school. I can’t believe you were always so talented,” Renjun chuckled. “Something must be so wrong with this world to think taking you is right.”

Renjun went silent, and Chenle could hear him choking back sobs. 

“It’s so not fair. Why you?” Renjun sobbed. Of all the questions Chenle had asked, that had never been one. “Our managers want you to film another video of This and That with Jisung. I saw the outfit they picked out for you. I swear the turtle neck goes all the way up to your chin. They got you a wig too. It’s really nice. I think you’ll like it. You know, Jisung had to argue with them about why cooking videos were a bad idea. I can’t believe they thought it was right to make you cook things you can’t even eat. I know how much you miss it.” The living room lapsed into silence as someone shifted. 

“Junnie?” It was Jaemin, voice gravelly and thick with sleep. 

“Go back to sleep, Jaemin,” Renjun said, but there was more shifting, and suddenly another body was settled on the couch. 

“He looks so small,” Jaemin whispered, fixing Chenle’s shirt to better cover him. 

“I never thought I’d have to come to terms with not having him in my life,” Renjun said. 

“I didn’t either. It was different when it was just graduation. At least then I knew-” Jaemin sighed. “You know.” Was all he added to his thought.

“You could see him again,” Renjun choked up, his voice so ungodly high pitched and sad. Chenle felt he should be comforting him, but he was paralyzed, afraid that they would be upset with him for listening in on something so sentimental. 

An atmosphere so breakable settled over them. Renjun had, at some point, stopped crying with Jaemin’s help, and both of them bid Chenle a soft goodnight before they lifted themselves up. Chenle heard Jaemin singing Renjun to sleep, and then the sound of him settling back down in his own spot.

The last thing Chenle heard before drifting off was the sound of Jaemin sucking in a deep, wet breath, a wounded cry ripping through the silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> I probably will include the pandemic in this story, mostly because my timeline is structured from We Go Up posting, and ending around the time Ridin' is released. I think it's a really important timeline event in real life, and it would make a super good addition, especially when acknowledging quarantines, how people will compromised immune systems navigate it, and how complicated it makes filming, promotions, and other such things when you have someone who can not be exposed.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I hope to see you in the comments again!
> 
> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


	4. PART I: Up We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did something happen, Lele?” Renjun asked, turning himself over to better see Chenle. 
> 
> “I had a dream. I didn’t like it,” Chenle responded, shrugging a little. He didn’t want it to seem like a big deal, no matter how much it affected him. 
> 
> “Do you want me to sing to you?” Renjun asked, and Chenle nodded, burying his face into Renjun’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends, I have finally finished the full outline for this story. 
> 
> I have always known how I wanted the story to end from the very start, but the middle was giving me a lot of trouble. It still is in a way (thanks Dream vs. Dream for letting me know my timeline is BEYOND salvageable!), but I have finally figured out the major plot points I want to go through. Unfortunately, I don't think the timeline accuracy to real life is going to work anymore because of Chenle saying that they were filming DNYL when I had them filming Boom in this story, so, off we go? Free as birds.
> 
> I have put together a track list for this story so that you can experience a bit more immersion. The music I listen to when writing influences a lot of the story, the characters, and the surroundings, so it would for sure be a better experience with it. (Unless you dislike the music, in which case, sorry!) 
> 
> MUSIC FOR THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> Renjun sings "Up We Go" by Lights in this chapter. Link to the song and the track list on Spotify:  
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2b1mFlfBa4bbW5peg0R4rq?si=K3KLimbATEaqtWnOjXaEkA
> 
> *I will be adding the songs as they appear in the story because they will spoil major plot points*

_ They find Jaemin lying on his side, gazing into the vastness of empty space before him. Renjun was the first to collapse next to him, not yet reaching out. The grass looked rough and dead, yellowed from the lack of rain and the overbearing heat. In the distance, one could see the waves that warped the view of the trees. _

_ Jeno said something, but it couldn’t be heard. Jaemin didn’t move to respond anyway. _

_ In the back, digging their shoe into the ground, was Donghyuck. His lips and teeth looked to be chattering, angry flinches of his handsome face popping up with each dig his foot made into the dirt. _

_ There was a feeling of dissociation about the scene. One moment Jaemin was lying next to Renjun, and the next Renjun was gone. Jeno, Mark, and Donghyuck had also vanished, leaving the dead-eyed boy alone in the dying field. _

_ The wind brushed through Jaemin’s hair, not enough to mess it up or permanently change the way it fell. There was that one cowlick that stuck up, smacking the ground and shooting back up. The tickle it likely made did nothing to pull a reaction out of him. Jaemin, still breathing and heart ticking, looked all but gone. _

_ The dissociated feeling of the scene was back, and suddenly Jaemin’s face was up close as if one was lying before him. His eyes stared, unblinkingly, back at the observer. It was then that the deep, bleeding cracks could be seen in his lips. The acne that had begun to pop up around his chin. The way his hair stuck a bit to his forehead. _

_ Renjun and Jeno returned at some point, all crowded around and speaking silent words. Jaemin didn’t move, but Renjun didn’t seem capable of accepting it. He wrapped his tiny, thin arms around Jaemin’s chest and held on as if the light wind would blow him away. There is a feeling in the observer as they look at those bony arms. They didn’t look right. _

_ Renjun ends up sitting with his head pillowed on his knees, and Jeno’s gone again. A tear dripped down the wasted face, gaunt and far too thin. He didn’t move to wipe it away. _

_ Jeno is inside the dorm. His head is pressed against the wall of the kitchen, eyes downcast, and fists clenched at his side. He looked up and caught the eyes of the observer, and suddenly the scene shifted again. _

_ Jisung was lying as deathly still as Jaemin, cuddled up on a bed so familiar to the observer. His arms were wrapped around a pillow, dark and patched with tears. In his hand was a hat, so well worn and loved, that smelled of the person he so desperately missed. _

_ Renjun was crying, silent, but so obvious. The tears were thick, and his face was upturned. Wrinkles appeared where his chin wobbled, his lips pinched, trying to hold back the audible proof of his sobbing. His hand wiped at the tears that fell. _

Chenle opened his eyes to Renjun’s face. 

They had fallen asleep together after watching a try not to laugh video on YouTube, both of them exhausted and comfortable with each other there. Chenle’s hand was sprawled over Renjun’s abdomen, the same position he’d nodded off in. The only sign Renjun had fallen asleep was the way his hold on Chenle’s hand had softened.

Jisung wasn’t in the room that night. Chenle’s heart gave a painful lurch, but he tried to focus on the warmth emanating from Renjun’s body. It wasn’t the same, but it satisfied a whole different ache Chenle had tried to push away. 

He missed the overbearing love his elder brothers gave him. The way Jeno would hold him in his lap, the way Jaemin would chase him and smother him in kisses and hugs, the way Renjun would hold his hand or soothe him to sleep. 

It was as if they were afraid to touch him sometimes. Like he was an illusion, and if they reached out, he would vanish. 

Chenle had no qualms about waking his elder brothers when he needed comfort. He knew Renjun would complain, but maybe his heart had softened a bit as time wore on. Perhaps he wouldn’t grumble about how it was 2 am, and they had schedules in the morning. 

“Gege?” Chenle whispered, shaking Renjun lightly. He woke immediately, eyes wide and trained on Chenle’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Renjun asked, already in protective older brother mode. Chenle’s heart ached. What he would do to give his older brother a sense of security again. To help him believe that each time he woke unexpectedly, that it wouldn’t be because of something horrible. 

“I wanted to hear your voice,” Chenle whispered. He wasn’t embarrassed, but it was a childish request. Renjun just sighed, face pinched up, and suddenly the dream Chenle had come back to him like a lightning strike. 

“Did something happen, Lele?” Renjun asked, turning himself over to better see Chenle. 

“I had a dream. I didn’t like it,” Chenle responded, shrugging a little. He didn’t want it to seem like a big deal, no matter how much it affected him. 

“Do you want me to sing to you?” Renjun asked, and Chenle nodded, burying his face into Renjun’s chest. 

_ Here in a familiar place _

_ We got our heads down _

Chenle allowed his eyes to wander, taking in Renjun’s frame. His arms, while thin, weren’t the bony, gangly things from his dream. His cheeks were still rounded, lips not bitten through. 

_ And we pretend it’s cause the night is dark _

The sound of Renjun’s voice washed over him, letting the trickling of nerves in his body slowly abate. 

_ And running out of space _

_ For us to run around _

Chenle didn’t want to go to chemo the next day. He didn’t want to feel sick and weak and tired. He didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t handle it. He wanted to go back to dance practice. He wanted to go to Inkigayo with his members. 

_ But it’s a dead-end, and money’s tight _

_ And it’s been a long time of this _

Chenle didn’t allow the tears to fall as he closed his eyes. 

_ Something has got to give. _

Chenle groaned as he was killed for the fourth time in Arena of Valor. He slumped in his chair as he waited to respawn, foot kicking impatiently.

“You know you’re buying your upgrades in the wrong order, right?” Jaemin teased him, also slumped in his chair but for a whole different reason.

The confidence was so aggravating.

“Come on, hyung, I’ve played this game for so much longer than you!” Chenle whined, pulling his phone back up to continue playing. Jaemin just chuckled maniacally and kept taking out the enemy champions in as many as five hits.

The group had finished their schedules for the day early, and since Jaemin was one of the few who hadn’t yet sat with Chenle during his chemo sessions, he’d been the one to skip his way in and plop himself down. Chenle was ecstatic to see his older brother when he arrived. He hadn’t had the chance to hang out with Jaemin alone in months.

“Victory!” Jaemin said, leaning up and giving Chenle a high five. Chenle reluctantly gave him one. 

“I’ll do better than you in the next one,” Chenle said, and Jaemin cooed and tickled him under his chin. 

“Mommy, can I dye my hair pink?” A little girl whispered from the next chair over. She was staring at Jaemin unabashedly, eyes wide as she colored her princess coloring pages. Her mom waved apologetically, but Jaemin waved her off with a smile. If he could give a sweet little girl suffering through so much happiness with just his hair color, he didn’t mind being stared at. 

“I don’t know, sweetie. Maybe when you’re older,” The mom said. The little girl hummed.

“What about orange?” She smiled a big, gap-toothed smile at Chenle. 

“They do have pretty hair colors, don’t they?” The mom said instead of yes or no. The little girl just nodded and went back to her book. 

“So cute,” Jaemin cooed. Chenle nodded back in agreement, trying not to openly stare. The little girl was a new patient, one that had only joined them during the previous week. Chenle had nearly finished his first round, and the poor baby in the chair next to him had just begun. 

She was bright and optimistic, something Chenle hadn’t been during his first week. It got easier, no doubt, but it had taken time. The little one was all sunshine and smiles, showing Chenle her new pastime game each time she came in. 

It was clear that Chenle was her favorite out of all the other patients. Even though there were plenty of other people in the room, it was always Chenle she ran up to first. She greeted him with a hug to the leg every day, making sure to be gentle. Her mom had to explain the first few days that Chenle was very sick and that he couldn’t be moved around too much. 

“Like me?” The girl had asked, but it hadn’t been pitying. She had been amazed, finally having someone just like her around. 

By the end of the first week, she had stopped running to him. She would walk, smile still in place, and lean her head on Chenle’s warm blanket. She was feeling the effects, and Chenle wished he could do something to take the pain away. 

“Oppa, look at my picture!” The little girl said, showing Chenle her eccentrically colored unicorn. Chenle ooh-ed and gave her a thumbs up.

“It’s so beautiful, Jae-ah!” Chenle said, and she happily snuggled back up into her chair, resuming her coloring. 

“You have a little fan,” Jaemin said, moving to ruffle Chenle’s hair. He stopped as if burned, and instead went down to pinch Chenle’s cheek. 

“She’s wonderful,” Chenle chuckled, ignoring the awkwardness that settled. Jaemin backed up as a doctor came to check Chenle over, not moving to return until the doctor had moved on to his next patient.

“Do you feel okay?” Jaemin asked. Million-dollar question.

“I don’t feel too good. Just, kinda hurts everywhere today,” Chenle responded, trying not to lie. Jaemin would’ve been able to see through it regardless. 

“Do you need anything?” Jaemin looked around, spotting Chenle’s nurse fluttering around the unit. 

“No, I just-” Chenle reached his lined hand out to Jaemin for him to take. “Think I need to rest for a little while.”

“Okay, hyung will be here when you wake up,” Jaemin promised, running his long fingers over Chenle’s smaller ones. 

Jaemin’s hand was still in his hours after he’d fallen asleep. Somehow, Jaemin was playing their game with one hand, periodically bashing his nose on the screen to use one of his abilities. Chenle couldn’t help but laugh; startling Jaemin so much, he nearly dropped his phone.

“Hey, we’re so close to winning, don’t scare hyung like that!” Jaemin whined, going silent for a few more seconds before sighing in relief, throwing his phone down. “Renjun would’ve been so upset with you had I dropped my phone and lost us the game.” Jaemin mocked, still having yet to take his hand out of Chenle’s grasp.

“Renjun-hyung was playing?” Chenle asked, quick to grab his phone. Jaemin tisked.

“Why am I no one’s favorite?” Jaemin teased, smiling wide when Chenle leaned up to give him a hug. 

“You’re my favorite Jaemin,” Chenle said, chuckling at the look on Jaemin’s face.

“Such bullies! Why does everyone have to make me suffer?” Jaemin whined, picking Chenle’s favorite champion in retaliation. 

“Hey! Not fair!” Chenle argued. 

“Mommy,” The little girl next to them said. “They argue like me and bubby, don’t they?” She said, and the mom again blushed to her neck and waved apologetically.

It was the hardest Jaemin and Chenle had laughed in ages. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” Chenle announces loudly at 8 pm. Everyone looked up at him slowly, waiting for him to elaborate. It was Donghyuck that caught sight of the razor in Chenle’s hand first.

“Oh, Chenle,” Donghyuck sighed, lifting himself off the couch. “Are you sure?”

“Yep! Before I change my mind, let’s go,” Chenle said, turning around and finding his way back into the bathroom. It had taken almost half an hour of sitting on the sink and staring at himself to decide, and he didn’t want to lose his momentum. 

Renjun, Jaemin, Jeno, Jisung, and Donghyuck filed in behind him, squished up and uncomfortably stacked. 

“Can one of you do it?” Chenle asked, holding the razor out. He had been banking on someone taking pity on him and doing it. If asking didn’t work, he could always use his shaky hands as an excuse.

It wasn’t even a bad one. His hands never stopped shaking.

“Only if I can make it look funny before we actually shave it all off,” Donghyuck said. 

“What if we all do one?” Jisung asked, a small smirk on his face. He had been a big part in Chenle finally coming to terms with losing his hair. Originally Chenle had wanted only Jisung to do it, but after really paying attention to his hyungs and seeing how much they were going through, he wanted them all there. It was a big part of this journey, and there was no doubt anymore that they were all in it together.

Chenle supposed it was fitting that they all had a part in saying goodbye to his hair together. 

“I don’t know, the thought of shaving your hair off makes me cringe,” Jaemin said, wiggling dramatically. Chenle smiled and laughed, shaking his head. 

“It’s okay, hyung. It’s going to go away anyway,” Chenle said, trying his best to soothe Jaemin. The smile his hyung plastered on was fake, but he nodded his head anyway. “If you don’t want to-”

“No! It’s okay. I want to be part of this with you,” Jaemin said. Chenle let his smile become a bit softer, hopefully portraying the love he felt without having to verbally say it. 

“Okay, but mine can still be funny, right?” Donghyuck said, trying to lighten the atmosphere again. Everyone rolled their eyes.

“Sure, hyung,” Chenle said, shaking his head. He handed the razor to Donghyuck, flicking it on when he made no move to do so himself. “I’m okay. I’m ready to let it go.” 

Donghyuck nodded sadly, turning Chenle to face the wall. He started at the top of Chenle’s head, one spot that hadn’t lost much, and dragged the razor all the way down to his neck. Everyone held their breaths as he ran it over the spot again, damaged orange hair dropping to the floor.

Chenle turned his head to look and chuckled, trying to hold back the sob in his throat. It was fine. He was fine. It was just hair. 

The razor went to Renjun next, and it only took a few moments before he was shaving the next strip of hair off Chenle’s head. Once he was done, it went to Jaemin, who made sure to whisper how beautiful Chenle was as more and more chunks of hair fell. Jeno, too, said similar words of encouragement. 

When it was Jisung’s turn, there wasn’t much left to do. He was careful and precise, getting all of the spots that the others had glanced over or had been too quick to truly get. Jisung’s hands were gentle as they held his face, traced where his hairline should have been, brushed the strands of hair off his ears and shoulders. 

Chenle refused to look at himself in the mirror when Jisung turned the razor off. He was smiling, not sadly, but as if he’d never been more proud. All of his friends looked the same. 

“Don’t be scared, Lele,” Jisung said, grasping his hand. 

Chenle looked up and caught his own eyes. He stared quietly for a long moment before a laugh bubbled up, and he was bent over on himself, clutching his chest. “I look like Mr. Clean!” Chenle exclaimed, almost falling to his knees in his mirth. No one seemed to know whether to laugh with him or ask if he was okay. 

“Uh-” Jisung chuckled lightly, grasping at Chenle’s hands to keep him from actually falling.

“What’s America’s bird? Bald Eagle? That too, I can be that too,” Chenle laughed. Renjun was the first to smile, looking between everyone to make sure it was okay. They all collapsed into laughter once Chenle continued to compare himself to different bald or balding characters in the media. 

If he wasn’t upset, they wouldn’t be either. 

Chenle throws up on Jaemin at exactly six am on a sunny, warm morning. 

They’d all gotten up for early schedules that day, and it was only the second Chenle would be joining them on. He had two weeks before he was back in his leather chair at the hospital, and it left him with a little more energy to film before his near obligatory mid-afternoon nap. 

Jaemin had been so nice to give him yogurt and juice, sitting with him to eat his own breakfast. They chatted about what exactly they would be getting up to that day before Chenle felt it, that lump in the back of his throat and the harsh jolt in his abdomen.

He didn’t even have the chance to turn away before his few bites of vanilla yogurt came right back up, splattering on Jaemin’s freshly cleaned clothes. 

“I’m sorry, hyung!” Chenle was mortified. Jaemin had shot back, dropping his chopsticks and whatever they were holding onto the ground. 

“Lele, it’s okay,” Jaemin said, jumping up to grab a towel. He returned quickly and wiped Chenle’s face, taking extra care as he moved to clean the boy’s neck. “Did you inhale anything? Can you breathe okay?” Jaemin asked worriedly, already moving to get the supplies to suction Chenle’s trach. 

“I don’t think so. I can still breathe fine,” Chenle said. 

“Are you sure?” Jaemin asked, listening carefully to the sounds made when Chenle breathed in. It was always loud, the whistling of an inhale so common that it was mostly forgotten. 

“I’m sure, hyung,” Chenle said, but Jaemin could hear the way something was choking him up. It sounded like he needed to cough, wet and gargling. True enough, Chenle let out a cough unlike one Jaemin had heard for a while, and one never heard when things were going right. 

“Wanna lay down or sit up?” Jaemin asked, pulling a pair of gloves on.

Chenle ends up lying down as Jaemin suctions the vomit and mucus out of his airway. It disgusts Chenle, his body periodically shivering, but Jaemin was concentrated and careful. He never complained or said how gross the process was. 

“You still sound a bit choked up, so I’m going to do it a few more times, okay?” Jaemin asked, and Chenle gave him a thumbs up. 

Once Jaemin was confident Chenle’s lungs sounded clear, he went through the process of cleaning the suction tube and putting it away. 

He still hadn’t changed his ruined shirt, so focused on Chenle and his well being. The shirt was sticking to Jaemin’s abdomen, and the smell made Chenle nearly vomit again. Had Jaemin not worked so hard to help him, he might have just done so. With Jaemin’s effort in mind, he managed to calm himself and his gag reflex enough his stomach settled. 

“Are you still feeling sick, Lele?” Jaemin asked, hands on the bowl of yogurt. “You need to eat, but I can get you something a bit lighter.”

“I’m okay now, hyung. I can eat it,” Chenle said, settling himself back down in his chair. Jaemin sat with him through the next few bites, making sure he was indeed okay, before excusing himself to go change. Once Jaemin was out of sight, Chenle dropped his spoon and pressed hard against his mouth, willing the nausea down. 

Once he was sure the few bites of yogurt would stay down, Chenle silently lifted himself up. He grabbed the bowl and made his way over to the sink, turning to make sure no one would see. When he was positive everyone was still in their rooms or showering, he dumped the remaining yogurt. He washed it down, spraying the bowl clean to make it look as if he’d simply been rinsing it off. 

Jaemin came back in then, catching Chenle drying off the empty bowl. He smiled so wide, so proud, and hugged Chenle lightly. “Good job, Lele! I’m so proud of you.” Jaemin cooed, taking the bowl and putting it back in the cupboard. 

Chenle felt as dirty as the sink pipes.

Chenle snuck out of the dorm while the members were filming promotional material for Boom.

He was careful to be quiet as he passed 127’s front door, the sound of someone in the kitchen loud over the relative silence in the hallways. He kept walking, afraid that if he stopped for a second, he’d be found out and forced to go back to rest. 

For once, Chenle felt good. His body felt like his, and he was going to take advantage. 

He opened the door to their practice room and looked around, taking in the space he missed so desperately. The mirrors looked freshly wiped down, remnants of spray still clinging to them. Chenle didn’t care. He just wanted to move. 

He didn’t play music as he settled in front of the mirrors, much too scared to get caught. If they found out what he was doing, there was no doubt the discussion of him going home would be brought up again. There was no way Chenle could risk it. 

Instead, Chenle allowed himself to channel his old memories into his new body. The sound of his breathing was loud and fake-sounding, like a respirator with a leak. It didn’t stop him, the moves coming smooth and familiar despite his extended break. 

Chenle moved through the opening of Boom, suddenly realizing how much of his part was really just standing with a few random, harsh body movements thrown in. He didn’t push himself, but his moves were still crisp and clean. 

It was when the chorus came up that things got hard. He was already panting, but his chest had yet to twinge, and his breathing still sounded clean. He moved his body to the imaginary beat, flinching as the head bop pulled at his trach uncomfortably. He pulled his mouth into a hiss, but no sound escaped.

The footwork at the end of the chorus had him panting aggressively, chest beginning to seize. It was that old, scary feeling again of running a marathon without actually having done anything. He tried to get through the rest of the chorus, but he collapsed halfway through, heaving and spluttering as he attempted to catch his breath. 

To his horror, his vision began to blackout, hands shaking as they desperately held him upright. 

“No, no, no,” Chenle begged whoever would listen. If he passed out, he was done. That was it. 

NCT Dream would be nothing but a distant memory. 

Time ticked onwards as Chenle worked to regain his breath. Eventually, he did, his chest no longer aching and breaths coming slow and even. He lifted himself up and opened the door, wanting to slam it on his way out but shutting it nicely instead. He made his way back to the dorm, feet pausing just outside 127’s door again.

He was upset, there was no doubt. He’d been so sure that he could handle it, and then he realized how far he actually was. Even at his best, he couldn’t handle the dances. He wanted to talk to his hyungs, ask them for advice. Ask for comfort. 

He turned away, opening the door to Dream’s dorm and locking it behind him. They very rarely locked the entrance in case someone from 127 or WayV wanted to check up on them, but Chenle didn’t want visitors. He just wanted to bury himself in League of Legends and pretend for a moment that his body was as strong as his character.

Jisung found him at 11 pm like that, still clicking away on his mouse as he tore down turrets and destroyed enemy champions. His frustration had done him some good; he was on a 13 game win streak. 

“Babe, what are you doing up?” Jisung asked, settling down next to Chenle. 

“I’m on a winning streak,” Chenle said, taking out another champion with ease. 

“Renjun is going to kill you,” Jisung chuckled, but Chenle simply pointed to his charging laptop.

“I’ll switch over when he’s ready to come to bed,” Chenle said. Jisung shifted uncomfortably.

“I uh-” Jisung started, scratching at his neck. “I missed you today?” Usually Chenle, if he wasn’t asleep or sick in bed, would be quick to run up and greet Jisung. Before it had been excited hugs, and lately it had been excited kisses. They’d slowly gotten more used to how the others gagged and groaned around them, complaining about gross couples and their PDA.

“I missed you, too,” Chenle said, and Jisung had the overwhelming urge to pull the plug out of the computer. 

“Did you?” Jisung tried not to sound hurt. He knew that either Chenle had a bad day or he wasn’t feeling well, and there was no reason to push or take it personally. 

“Yeah.” Was all the response Chenle gave. Finally, the game ended, and Chenle bent his head down. “I’m sorry, I did miss you. A lot.” 

“Did something happen today? Are you not feeling well?” Jisung asked, running a hand up Chenle’s face to check his temperature. When he determined there was no fever, he moved to check Chenle’s trach for anything abnormal, coming up with nothing. 

“Just a normal day,” Chenle shrugged. 

Finally, after a long stalemate, Chenle lifted himself up and straddled Jisung’s lap, resting his head comfortably on Jisung’s shoulder. 

“I missed you so, so much,” Jisung said, hugging Chenle tightly. Jisung rocked them silently, not stopping the movement until Renjun tiredly opened the door, squinting at the light. 

“What happened?” Renjun asked, face dropping into a concerned frown. 

“He seems off, hyung,” Jisung said. 

“Fever?” Renjun asked, doing his own check. “Lele, can you breathe okay?” Renjun asked, and Chenle nodded his head. He felt fine physically. That was the problem. 

“Chenle, can you look at gege?” Renjun asked, and Chenle removed his face from Jisung’s shoulder. “Can you squeeze my hand?” Chenle squeezed Renjun’s hand as much as he was able, Renjun’s face dropping into a frown.

“Weaker than normal,” Renjun said, grasping for Chenle’s other hand. They repeated the process again. “I’ll be right back.” Renjun was up and gone, leaving Chenle and Jisung alone once again. 

“Can you squeeze my hand, princess?” Jisung asked, and Chenle did. Jisung’s whole body tensed, free hand rubbing Chenle’s back comfortingly. 

Had he truly worked himself that hard?

Renjun returned with a pair of chopsticks and a rice cake, something that Chenle still couldn’t dream of eating. He laid the plate down on the bed and handed Chenle the chopsticks. “Try to pick it up for me, Lele.” 

Chenle’s hands shook violently, merely trying to hold the chopsticks correctly. He’d been using spoons and straws for the last month and some change, and usually with much more precision and accuracy. He ended up dropping the chopsticks before he even went to try and pick up the rice cake. 

“You must be exhausted,” Renjun sighed, running his fingers under where Chenle had glued his wig on for that day. “Can we take this off? I think we should turn in for the night.” Chenle pulled himself away, not ready for the wig to come off. It took a lot of time each night to coax it off of him, but it was slowly getting more comfortable. 

Just like the doctor said. Everything would slowly come easier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)  
Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


	5. PART I: Blood Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all settled down for tea, and once all the glasses were empty, she reached her hands out for Renjun and Jaemin. 
> 
> They took her hands and turned to take the hands of those sitting next to them. They prayed for their safety and for Chenle’s comfort through the next twenty-four hours. It would be the hardest test of his endurance since his diagnosis, and none of them were sure if he was ready. 
> 
> But Chenle was sure, and if he was dead set on it, they would support him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I officially learned why you shouldn't title a story until you're finished. 
> 
> I put an early warning for Chapter 9 in the end notes!

When’s it’s time for NCT to go to the 24th World Scout Jamboree, it was decided Chenle would return home for the time being.

127 had long left for America on their leg of a tour, and WayV was at their dorm in China preparing for their own comebacks. There would be no one around to help Chenle while he struggled through preparing for his next round of chemotherapy, or even the simple daily struggles like suctioning his trach and replacing it when needed. 

Then, two weeks before he’s meant to go home, the people running the event call and ask for Chenle to be present. 

They say that the scouts are a group of individuals who strive their best to overcome, even in the most challenging of situations. Their motto is to do whatever you can to help others, to be ready, willing, and able to do anything in any situation. To be fully prepared to live a long and worthwhile life. They believed that Chenle’s story, short as it may be, would be one worth hearing. 

The Jamboree was being held in the USA, meaning there would be lots of travel involved. Despite Chenle’s slowly improving stamina, there was still no telling if his immune system was capable of handling such a trip. He had just finished his second round of chemo, and his white blood cell count had been on a slow upward battle. 

Chenle ended up at two different doctor’s appointments to determine if it was safe to travel. They cleared him for the trip, but on several different grounds.

The first was that he wore a mask anytime he was around large groups of people. Easy.

The second was that he had a travel bag full of the necessary supplies to properly care for his trach, and any emergency pieces in case something were to happen. His manager, his mother, and Renjun were all given a copy of the list of supplies needed, translated diligently into Chinese. His mother’s Korean had improved dramatically, but it was nowhere near good enough for formal documentation. 

The third was that he found a doctor nearby and obtained proper health coverage. He’d been given a long, tiring speech about healthcare costs in the United States, and it was quickly decided that no one wanted to be left with an unpayable bill if anything were to happen. 

The fourth was that he refrained from walking long distances. They said for him to request assistance at the airline, and then rent a wheelchair to be brought around the festival. Chenle thoroughly believed being pushed around in a wheelchair was the worst of all the requirements. 

The fifth and final one was to have a good time and send them the video of his and his group’s speech.

Chenle’s mom decided quickly that she was going to tag along. She had been struggling with Chenle being even a few minutes away, and she had been insistent Chenle would not be leaving the country without her. The managers involved with the trip had been welcoming. They agreed without complaint, even going as far as to book an extra room for her and Chenle to share.

The next week was spent in a flurry of panicked preparation. Still recovering from his chemotherapy treatment, Chenle was in and out of sleep most of the time. His mother and Renjun had managed to put together a comprehensive travel kit that would last them for many trips in the future, one that had even received high praise from Chenle’s doctor. 

The paperwork for Chenle’s assistance with the airline was put in the same folder as his travel insurance and emergency contact lists. His passport, diagnosis papers, birth certificate, and social security card were all there as well, meticulously organized by his fretting mother each morning. She never felt it was enough and was always worried about forgetting something. 

The day before their flight was spent with each and every member of Dream double checking all the necessary supplies at Chenle’s mom’s insistence. She wanted to make sure she had as many eyes as possible. 

“I think we have everything, Mrs. Zhong,” Renjun said, meticulously going through the bag. 

“Good, good,” She said, wiping at her sweaty brow. They all settled down for tea, and once all the glasses were empty, she reached her hands out for Renjun and Jaemin. 

They took her hands and turned to take the hands of those sitting next to them. They prayed for their safety and for Chenle’s comfort through the next twenty-four hours. It would be the hardest test of his endurance since his diagnosis, and none of them were sure if he was ready. 

But Chenle was sure, and if he was dead set on it, they would support him. 

“Jisung, sweetie, can I talk to you?” Chenle’s mom whispered with a smile once they’d finished. The rest of them bid goodnight and vanished into their respective rooms, leaving Jisung alone with Chenle’s mother.

“How can I help you, Mrs. Zhong?” Jisung asked, but she simply waved him off.

“I just want to really sit down and talk to you. My son’s boyfriend. His first love,” She cooed. Jisung blushed and looked down, but the smile on his face was hard to miss. “I’ve only gone through this one other time. My eldest son, you know. You’ve met my wonderful grandson.”

“I have. He’s precious,” Jisung said, thinking of Chenle’s beloved nephew. 

“I hope he gets the chance to know Chenle,” Chenle’s mom said, breath hitching. She waved her hand in front of her eyes and smiled, holding her hand out for Jisung to take. “I hope he gets to know the boy that made our Chenle so happy. I know that you are teenagers, and love is so new. But you both are maturing so quickly. Much faster than I wanted, for sure. I enjoy the fumbling and the awkwardness, but I see you two are already long past that.” 

“I want to be there for him. I want to be his support. Sometimes I’m afraid that if I fumble or seem awkward that he won’t feel safe or secure,” Jisung admitted. Chenle’s mom squeezed his hand tightly.

“My boy, you don’t need to be anything more than you are. Chenle looks at you like you hung the moon and stars just for him because you’re here. He doesn’t need you to always know what you’re doing. He just needs to know you’re willing to try,” She said. Jisung bit his lip and looked away, trying not to appear as weak as he felt. 

“I’m always willing to try. Ever since I met him on that show when we were kids,” Jisung chuckled, smiling brightly at the memory. “I believe that we were destined for each other.”

“As do I,” Chenle’s mom agreed. “I can’t imagine another answer to your coincidental meeting and then ending up in the same group together. I guess it could be that. A coincidence, but what’s the fun in that?” She winked at him. 

“I uh-” Jisung began, fumbling a bit. She waited patiently for him to continue. “I know we’re young, but sometimes I think about how much I wish I could marry him one day.” 

“Jisung, the world is changing every day. For all we know, in a few years, you will be able to. The tides are turning even in our areas now,” Chenle’s mom was smiling so wide. “Marriage. So early. Now, this is the part of teenage love I can’t get enough of. My eldest was always talking about marrying too.” 

“I can’t imagine myself with anyone else,” Jisung shrugged, scratching at his neck. “My family is huge on commitment. A bit old fashioned, I guess. They sometimes say that your first kiss should be your only.” Jisung explained, and Chenle’s mom settled back into her chair. She watched as Jisung’s face fell.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked.

“What if he-” Jisung tried, but the words got stuck in his throat. 

“I’m not going to tell you to deny the real possibility,” Chenle’s mom began, taking Jisung’s other hand. She looked him deep in the eyes, and with so much sincerity, said, “But if there is one future I want you to think of, it’s the one where you are the happiest. It’s what keeps us going. It’s like lighting lanterns on a dark road. If you don’t, you won’t see a reason to keep going. You’ll end up frozen and frightened.” 

“I don’t know how to be happy without him,” Jisung whispered, covering his mouth with his hand. 

“We need to love him with a lifetime of love now,” She said. “Love him as if you’re both ninety years old, long retired with great-great-grandchildren. Love him as if you’ve been together for seventy long, long years. Then, even if we don’t get that long, at least we can say he was given a full life’s worth of love.”

“I wish I was better at showing affection,” Jisung chuckled, pressing at his eyes. 

“From what I’ve heard from your friends, neither of you have any problem showing affection,” Chenle’s mom teased, and Jisung felt his whole face heat up. Of all the things his friends had to talk about with his boyfriend’s mom, it just had to be their PDA habit. “You hold him when he goes to sleep every night, I heard.” 

“I try to. The only times I don’t are when he falls asleep with another member,” Jisung said, thinking about the rare times he’d stumbled upon Chenle fast asleep with Renjun or Jaemin. 

“My husband does that for me. I’ve never been able to sleep properly without him beside me,” Chenle’s mom said, nodding morosely. 

“Are you struggling without him here?” Jisung asked, suddenly worried for her. 

“Of course. Just like you struggle when you’re away from each other,” She said, but Jisung waved that off.

“It’s different, you’ve been together for so many years,” Jisung said, but Chenle’s mom gave him a look.

“Remember what I said about loving him like you’re old and wrinkly?” She said, and Jisung giggled at the image. Chenle would still be cute then. He hoped for the chance to see it. 

“Do you wish he was home?” Jisung pondered aloud. 

“I do. He’s my baby, my little man. I know, however, that he needs to be here. I cannot give him the fun, stimulating life of an idol. I can’t give him the love you do. I can’t stay up until four am when he can’t sleep to play that ridiculous game you children play.” She said, pointing to Jisung’s phone as she did. 

“I read a lot about cancer patients living on campus in college for a while. I know it’s not the same, but the details were. Being surrounded by friends, having distractions, things to do, a goal, and a drive to achieve it. Chenle’s purpose is this, and I couldn’t imagine taking that from him just because I want him home.”

“Have you thought about permanently moving here?” Jisung asked. Their house in Korea was only twenty minutes away, hardly a drive at all. Chenle had lived there for years before finally becoming comfortable enough to occupy his bed in Renjun’s room each night. He’d returned for the We Go Up comeback, and never left after. 

“We have,” She nodded, but didn’t elaborate. Jisung can only imagine all the roadblocks between her and permanent residency in Korea. “I really love Chenle’s doctor here. I don’t want to have to switch him and get him adjusted to a whole new space, with a whole new team and a whole new group of patients. I know how much he loves the ones he’s with.”

“He does. He’s even got a little fan,” Jisung said, thinking of the girl who’d now shadowed Chenle through two long rounds of chemo. 

“Jaeah, yes. I’ve heard so much about her,” Chenle’s mom smiled. “I don’t think he’d do well without you all around. Kun told me he was absolutely distraught in his first session. I can’t imagine him without the capability to call, and one of you show up.”

“I’d always do my best,” Jisung said.

“I know you would, and that’s why he needs to be here,” She said. “Both of you need to come to China once his third round of chemo ends. I’m sure this trip will wear him out too much to add another on top of it. The baby has truly gotten so big since you’ve been gone.” 

“Really? I remember when he was as big as my hands,” Jisung chuckled, thinking about how that wasn’t that hard. His hands were enormous. 

“Really! He’s sitting up all on his own now,” She said, pulling her phone out and showing Jisung a video. The baby cooed at the phone, tiny hand reaching out and smacking at the camera. The laugh that followed warmed both their hearts, so loud and sudden, just like Chenle’s. 

“He already is so much like Chenle,” Jisung said, replaying the laugh again. 

“My eldest and I have already started making a booklet for him to get to know Chenle, just in case,” She said. “Pictures, mostly. We have the whole internet for video.”

“I have a few photos I can send you. Lots of videos too. None of them have been posted, so they’ll be special for him,” Jisung said, and Chenle’s mom took a moment. She lifted herself up and motioned for Jisung to do the same, her arms wrapping around him in a crushing hug. 

“I’m so glad he found you,” She said.

“I’m glad I found him,” Jisung said, trying his hardest not to get the woman’s clothes wet. When she finally let him go, and Jisung got the chance to wipe at his eyes, he was all blotchy and sniffly, tears ruining the makeup he’d so painstakingly done that morning. 

“Go wash that off and get in bed. We have a flight to catch,” She said, and Jisung bowed low before running to get the makeup off and collapse in bed. 

Jisung is shocked to find not only Jaemin asleep in his bed but Renjun as well.

Renjun had dried tear tracks still shining with the light of the moon. Jaemin was wrapped protectively around the smaller body, hand buried in Renjun’s hair. 

Jisung smiled and closed the curtains. He grabbed a blanket off his own bed and draped it over Jaemin, not wanting him to become chilled through the night. He stared for a little too long, wondering if all of the signs he’d been seeing had been genuine. 

He saved the thoughts for later and made his way to Chenle and Renjun’s shared room, collapsing next to a still sleeping Chenle. He wrapped his arms around the slowly recovering body, willing all of his own strength into it. 

Chenle’s mother came in a few minutes later. Jisung pretended to be asleep, not wanting her to stay up any longer to help him fall asleep. He heard the sound of her phone camera going off as the flash lit up the room, then she settled in Renjun’s bed. 

He could imagine the photo in the book given to Chenle’s nephew. His uncle and the person who loved -- loves -- him so dearly. 

Jisung’s love was all-encompassing and eternal, he knew. His soulmate was in his arms, and there would be no one left to fill that space. Even if Chenle was no longer living on Earth, Jisung would never stop loving him. 

* * *

Renjun was the first to pick up the camera to start vlogging.

It was fun and familiar, the banter between them as they wiggled their way through massive crowds to find their gate. They did acrostic poems and teased each other with them, most of the time pretending to not have literal words to give but enjoying it regardless. 

Chenle already felt tired, they could all tell. He’d had his head laid back on his wheelchair since Jisung had first helped him into it, only staying truly aware long enough to make it through security on his own. No one put the camera on him, but his presence was still noticeable. Jisung’s hands were holding the wheelchair as he pushed it along, and occasionally, a flash of his wig could be seen.

The light rocking of the subway car lulled Chenle to sleep as they made their way to their terminal. Jisung was cuddled against him, arm draped over Chenle’s front with his head pillowed on Chenle’s. Donghyuck turned the camera on them, and Jisung covered his face, whining for him to cut it out. 

“But you’re so cute,” Donghyuck said. “We have such adorable maknaes.” Donghyuck pulled the camera back to himself, and again he was launching into poems with Renjun at his side. 

By the time they were set up and ready to eat, Chenle was awake and out of the wheelchair, settled at a booth with Jisung at his side. Donghyuck was gushing over Jisung’s adorable neck pillow while he attempted to play his game, and Chenle and Renjun were in a heated conversation about something involving the phone Town of Salem vs. computer Town of Salem. 

Donghyuck turned the camera to their bickering, and almost instantly, Chenle’s hand was up to cover his trach. 

“Chenle, it’s okay,” They could hear Chenle’s mother somewhere in the background. He still didn’t remove his hand, but he smiled at the camera regardless.

“Renjun-hyung has wrong opinions,” Chenle said, Renjun quickly hitting him lightly in the arm. 

“Ya, they’re not wrong!” Renjun said, and they were back to bickering in quick Chinese. 

They ended up eating in relative silence, thankfully. Chenle managed to eat half a serving of mashed potatoes before he was forced to tap out, switching over to one of his hardly delectable liquid meals. Jaemin found no trouble in finishing off the rest of the food Chenle left behind, and then they were up and looking for their gate. 

“Ah, that was a good meal,” Donghyuck said, Renjun and Jeno nodding in agreement. Chenle deadpanned from his wheelchair. “Chenle gets all the special stuff. Our team makes him those meals, did you know that? They literally get ingredients, mix them up, and then feed them to that little monster.” 

“We can trade?” Chenle chuckled, pulling the scarf around his neck a bit higher. 

“Nah, I’m good,” Donghyuck turned away with a smile, his face softening as the oh-so dolphin-like laugh fell over them. 

On the plane, Jisung helped Chenle walk through the isles, making sure he wasn’t sedentary for so long at the high altitude. He didn’t have any breathing problems or headaches, even hours in, so they had hope that they were in the clear and began to relax more. 

Donghyuck, Jeno, and Jaemin settled down to nap for the remaining ten hours of their flight, while Renjun and Chenle watched a movie on Renjun’s laptop. Jisung, still too nervous to sleep, used his time to rest his eyes. He channeled into the sound of Chenle’s trach, the smooth inhale relaxing. 

“Jisungie,” Jisung startled, looking over at a very awake Jaemin. 

“I thought you were asleep, hyung?” Jisung said. Jaemin hummed and stretched, yawning. 

“I was. Are you alright?” Jaemin asked, settling back down with smacking lips.

“Of course, why?” Jisung asked. 

“You’re usually asleep by now,” Jaemin chuckled. 

“I’ve got my pillow!” Jisung said, pointing to his blue neck pillow Donghyuck consistently gushed over. 

“Want hyung to hold your hand?” Jaemin asked, and even though they would be blocking the aisle, Jisung grabbed Jaemin’s hand. Being comforted was something abnormal to him in recent months. The feeling of Jaemin’s hand grounded him. “_Aigoo_, Jisungie. Get some sleep for, hyung. Please.” 

Jisung nodded off, leaving Jaemin, Chenle and Renjun the only ones awake. Renjun looked over, smirking bashfully at Jaemin before turning back to his movie. 

Chenle, having seen the exchange, looked between Jaemin and Renjun curiously. 

He leaned back with a smirk of his own, arms crossed over his chest. Renjun looked at him suspiciously but didn’t say anything.

And now, let the teasing begin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> *** I'm going to put this warning early on since it's a new plot development that requires a warning tag: In Chapter 9, there will be an accidental/near suicide. It is failed, and no one dies, but I want you all to be prepared. I still am considering removing the chapter from the line up because it's very dark, but at the same time, it's fitting and almost necessary for a character arc. Thank you for reading and supporting, you all are amazing!***
> 
> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


	6. PART I: Cancel Culture Pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chenle smiled as he read the new comments. His name in all caps, a few cheering him on, a small handful defending him. He laughed at the hashtag that was being sent through, cringing enough that he fell back onto the bed. 
> 
> #ChenleCancelCancer
> 
> “Now this is cancel culture I can get behind!” Jaemin said, bouncing up excitedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the end notes for future chapter warnings. 
> 
> TRANSLATIONS FOR KOREAN TEXT: 
> 
> 할 수 있다 (hal su issda): it can be done/can do  
울지마 (uljima): don't cry
> 
> I have found that I struggle translating certain words from Korean to English with the same inherent feeling I get when hearing the Korean. In a later chapter, I want to have someone say something along the lines of, "보고 싶어요 (bogo sipeoyo, or however its romanized. I hate romanizing text!)" However, saying the English phrase "I miss you" does not encompass the phrase, even for my Korean friend that I speak with. She said to use a translation such as "I want to see you," but it sounds awkward in English to me. 
> 
> Does anyone know a proper way of translating things such as this into English properly? Thank you!

“Wow!” Chenle exclaimed, eyes wide as they took in their first view of West Virginia. It wasn’t anything new or particularly exciting, but Chenle was still treating the airport parking lot like the most fascinating vacation spot in the world. “West Virginia. I didn’t even know this place existed a few days ago!” 

Renjun snorted, “Yes, you did, you just didn’t know its name.” 

“Isn’t that the same thing? I know there’s land in the middle of the Atlantic, but I don’t know what it’s called, so therefore, I don’t know it exists.” The logic seemed faulty to Renjun, but he let it slide. 

Jaemin clapped with a loud _ ah _, finger in the air. “I get it!”

“What do you get?” Renjun asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“I get what Chenle is getting at,” Jaemin said, smiling proudly. It was as if it had taken a lot of effort to get to that point. 

“Don’t work overtime on it, Nana,” Renjun said, rolling his eyes. 

“You know, being smart isn’t always the best superpower, Injunnie,” Jaemin said, pinching Renjun’s cheek. 

Renjun smacked him off with a playful glare. “So clingy.” 

“This must be how Renjun-hyung flirts, huh, Jisungie?” Chenle said, Jaemin and Renjun nearly breaking their necks as they look over. Chenle laughed so hard he went silent, Jisung patting him on the back lightly to get him to take a breath in. “Sorry, it’s so awkward. I can’t help it.” 

“I wasn’t flirting,” Renjun said, red face and all. Jaemin wiggled his eyebrows and made a kissy face, making Renjun gag and turn away. “Okay, I’m done with you guys. Take me home.”

“But I still stay ‘cuz you’re the only thing I know,” Chenle and Jisung sang in tandem. 

“But won’t you take, oh, won’t you take me home!” Donghyuck joined in, loud enough the large group of travelers around them stared. Renjun groaned and turned away, plopping down on an empty seat next to one of their managers.

“I don’t know you people,” Renjun said, pulling his phone out. Chenle, Jisung, and Jaemin giggled silently to each other. It was so easy to rile Renjun up. 

They arrived at the hotel, and despite Chenle’s near-constant fatigue on the journey there, he was ready to go. He bid his mother goodbye and made his way to Jaemin and Jisung’s room, banging on the door. He waited impatiently, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

The door opened to Jisung, eye smile on full display when he saw Chenle at the door. “Hey, you. I figured you’d want to nap.” Jisung said, wrapping Chenle up and pulling him into the room. Jaemin, not bothered by their PDA, stayed on his bed as he flipped through the tv channels. 

“Nope. We’re in a whole new state in a country we’ve hardly been to. How can I sleep?” Chenle asked, running to look out the window. He pulled the curtains back and sucked in a deep breath, taking in the sight. There wasn’t much to look at other than some city buildings and a few trees, but it was more than enough for Chenle. 

“You seem so enamored,” Jisung chuckled, sitting in the chair next to the window. Chenle’s face softened, but his smile remained. 

“I want to see as many places as I can. I mean, who has West Virginia on their bucket list? Still, it’s new and beautiful and another place I’ve been,” Chenle said, taking Jisung’s hand. “It’s another place I’ve been with you.”

The breath was punched out of Jisung’s lungs. He’d read about love in books and seen it in movies, but nothing compared to the real thing. Where your heart stops with just a smile or the way your body tingles whenever they come near you. It was confounding, yet so right. Chenle had all of his heart in his tiny, shaking hands. 

His whole world was standing before him, haloed with the light of the setting sun. 

“I really do think about you like a cheesy teenage romance novel,” Jisung said out loud. Chenle howled, face heating up in a perfect mirror of Renjun’s from earlier in the day. 

“Ya! You can’t say that kind of stuff,” Chenle said. “Have some mercy, Park Jisung.” 

“Seriously,” Jaemin said, finally making his presence known. “You could pretend to be a bit tsundere. The fans would think it’s so hot.” 

“What’s tsundere?” Jisung asked, genuinely sounding curious. 

“Oh, my sweet, innocent child,” Jaemin said. “Never grow up.” 

“It’s not even that bad, hyung,” Chenle said, rolling his eyes. “It means you’re mean, but then you show how nice and sweet you actually are.”

“Like Renjun-hyung!” Jisung snapped, seemingly coming to a great realization. 

“Oh come on, Renjun isn’t mean. It’s just a show,” Jaemin said, and both Chenle and Jisung looked over in sync. 

“Whipped,” They both said, giving each other a high five. 

“Who let you two on the internet? I’m banning you. Grounded, both of you,” Jaemin said, lifting himself off the bed. “Phones! Come on now, in the hand.” Chenle shrieked and ran off to the other side of the room, screaming loudly as Jaemin chased after him. He slammed the door to the bathroom shut, giggling uncontrollably.

“Zhong Chenle, you listen to hyung! You heard me!” Jaemin said, looking back at Jisung. The sight of the fond smile on their youngest’s face was enough to melt Jaemin down.

“Hyung! Guess what I found?” Chenle suddenly said.

“What, brat?” Jaemin teased, winking at Jisung. 

“Your phone!” Chenle said, and suddenly Jaemin was tugging at the handle, knocking lightly on the door. 

“Now, Chenle, hyung is sorry for chasing you. Can you please open the door so I can have my phone back? I promise to sneak you all the chocolate and strawberry meals if you do!” Jaemin said, but Chenle just giggled wickedly. 

“Why? Is there something here you don’t want me to see?” Chenle asked, accentuated by the sound of Jaemin’s phone unlocking. 

“Chenle, I love you. Hyung will never tickle you again. I’ll go buy you ice cream! How does that sound? Doesn’t ice cream sound nice?” Jaemin said, sliding dramatically down onto the floor. Jisung was bent over, hand on his stomach as he laughed. 

“What kind?” Chenle asked.

“Any kind!” Jaemin said, banging his head on the door. Without any prompting, Chenle opened the door, Jaemin falling in and hitting the floor. “Ow.”

“Here’s your phone, let’s go get ice cream,” Chenle said, hopping over Jaemin and plopping down on the bed. 

“You know those compilation videos of me complaining? There should be ones of you bullying me,” Jaemin said, not moving to get up from the floor. “There must be hours of footage.” 

Chenle sighed, “Can we go now?” 

“Fine! I’m getting up,” Jaemin said, lifting himself up off the ground. Jisung and Jaemin shared another look as they pulled their shoes on. It was nice seeing Chenle so carefree and happy. 

“Let’s go,” Jisung said, holding his hand out for Chenle to take. 

“What if someone sees?” Chenle asked, but took the hand anyway.

“Oh well. Other groups get away with worse,” Jisung said, opening the door for Chenle and Jaemin to walk through. 

“Let’s be honest, I get away with worse,” Jaemin said.

He wasn’t wrong. 

Chenle finished his small cup of ice cream, which is somehow the biggest accomplishment to both Jisung and Jaemin. It’s deserving of all the hugs and praises from Jaemin, and the soft kiss and “I’m so proud of you,” from Jisung. 

They return to the hotel for dinner with the rest of the group. Everyone is camped out in Donghyuck, Jeno, and Renjun’s room waiting for their room service when they finally arrive. 

“So they decide to join us!” Donghyuck said, showing the trio to the vlog camera he had out. Chenle, despite the instinct to do so, didn’t pull his hand over his trach.

It seemed like no matter how badly he wanted to keep it hidden, he couldn’t. It would be easier to say fuck it and show it off, so that’s precisely what he did. 

“Jaeminie-hyung bought me ice cream. Isn’t he so lovely, everyone?” Chenle gushed. Jaemin waved him off, but his satisfaction was evident in his straightened stance and wide smile. 

They end up doing an eating show on V-Live, everyone talking about the Scout event they were headed off to the next day. The comments were varying. Some actually talked back about the topic, and the rest were talking about Chenle not covering his trach. 

It made Chenle feel exposed. Awkward. He didn’t want his fans seeing that weak part of him, and with a jolt of anger, he realized he didn’t have the option either way. He knew that it was only a matter of time, and it was his own fault for wanting to continue to film, but did it really have to be so soon? 

Chenle drank his strawberry meal and sat next to Jeno, and with a sinking feeling, Chenle realized Jeno was scrolling past comments with his name in them. Chenle tried to slow him down, but Jeno laughed and waved him off. They were all the same, he said. Just talking about how cute Chenle looked in his oversized sweater.

At least half of it wasn’t lying. They really were all the same comments.

Chenle was amazed by the endurance of his hyungs. It was clear that no one was actually paying attention to them, and yet they still continued on like it was a typical broadcast. They showed off the tv show they were watching, finished eating their dinner, and then moved on to talk about past comebacks in preparation for their new one. 

Renjun paused a little too long on one of the questions._ Is Chenle going to be in the new comeback? _ Chenle pinched him in the side, nodding for him to answer. 

“Chenle won’t be in the new music video, but he did sing for all of the tracks,” Renjun answered, and the flurry of comments was to be expected. There was no use in blocking Chenle from seeing. It was all there, the thousands of different opinions on the topic. 

_ He just looks like one of those idols that never eats. _

_ If he can fly to the US, why couldn’t he film the music video? _

_ SM and their clout. _

_ Does he even look any different? _

Chenle tried not to let it get to him. It was clear he wasn’t faking, and regardless, SM would never do such a thing for ratings. It was just people who couldn’t accept a harsh reality trying to warp it into something more comfortable to swallow. He couldn’t fault them for that. 

“Chenle was in the middle of his first chemotherapy session when we filmed the new music video,” Jisung butt in, hands clenched at his side. “The official statement about it is a pinned tweet on NCT Dream’s Twitter. He’s worked very hard to rest and recover for our fans. Now that he has a break and is about to start his last treatment, he is feeling well enough to join us again.”

_ Watch out, protective boyfriend alert. _

Chenle wanted to leave, but he held his ground. He smiled wide and scooted himself forward, “I’m sorry that you won’t see me in the new music video, but I hope you still enjoy it anyway! The members worked very hard on it to make sure you’d enjoy it. Please continue to support me in promotions, even if I’m not on stage dancing.” 

_ He’s so strong for a 17-year-old. _

_ How many of you would be able to get up and dance during chemotherapy? I mean seriously. _

_ The better question is how many of you would be able to get up and dance like him in general? _

_ This boy is literally up and moving and living life as normal as possible for you, and y’all still find something to complain about. _

Chenle smiled as he read the new comments. His name in all caps, a few cheering him on, a small handful defending him. He laughed at the hashtag that was being sent through, cringing enough that he fell back onto the bed. 

#ChenleCancelCancer

“Now this is cancel culture I can get behind!” Jaemin said, bouncing up excitedly. The Vlive ended with Donghyuck pulling everyone into a line as if ready to bow after a successful performance. 

“Ready, everyone comment at the same time!” Donghyuck said, looking to make sure everyone was ready. “1, 2, 3!”

“Chenle Cancel Cancer!” They yelled out together, cheering wildly afterward. The chat, once so skeptical and harsh, was flooded with good wishes and the promise to stick by NCT Dream’s side. 

_ Chenle, don’t cry! _

_ No, baby, don’t cry! _

_ Omg :( _

All the members whipped around to see Chenle in tears, still laughing as he wiped at his eyes. He let out a nasty cough, and Jisung was quick to run off for a tissue to catch the mucus that would eventually find its way out of his mouth. 

So disgusting, yet so necessary. 

“_ Aigoo, _our Chenle,” Jaemin said, wrapping his arms around Chenle. They all gathered around, hugging him tightly, and for a moment they forgot there were still thousands of people watching them. 

Their family, so breakable. They held on tight, eyes closed and heads pressed together. They would make it. Together.

There was no other way.

Chenle shuffled out of bed somewhere around midnight, unable to sleep. His insomnia had slowly begun to get worse, leading to more nighttime walks and late-night phone gaming than he cared to admit to. 

He pushed open the door to his and his mother’s hotel room, careful to keep it from slamming. Once the lock clicked, he allowed his feet to move. 

He didn’t have a destination in mind. In the past, he enjoyed finding the amenities of hotels the most. The pool, exercise room, or anything else that happened to be around. Convention Center hotels were the best, he had to admit. There was no limit to the exploration possibilities there. 

Chenle passed a sign with a list of areas to visit and the directions to get there. The pool was on the first floor, back exit, the exercise room next to that, and the entrance to the roof was on the fifth floor, fourth hallway. 

He headed for the fifth floor. 

Not many hotels he’d ever stayed in had roof access. The idea of a quiet spot to stare at the stars soothed him, motivating him to climb the set of stairs to the access point. The door was metal and rusting, and the lock was broken and dangling uselessly. There were no hours posted, so Chenle didn’t think he’d get in trouble for heading out. He pushed the groaning door open, allowing it to snap back in place without care for noise. 

He scuffed his shoes against the concrete. It was much quieter than he expected, but the sound of late-night traffic was still there, breaking the illusion that he was alone. He shuffled his way forward, wanting to see the late-night lights and commuters of the city. 

Before he had the chance, he realized he really wasn’t alone. 

Chenle backed up behind the wall before he could be spotted, peeking around to glance at the pair occupying the roof with him. 

It was Jaemin and Renjun, but that wasn’t the most entrancing part. They sat on the ledge of the roof, precarious and ignorant of their spectator. Their foreheads were pressed together, Renjun’s hands buried in Jaemin’s hair. They were so close, barely an inch of space between their bodies, the gap slowly bridging as Jaemin pulled Renjun closer. 

Renjun kissed Jaemin once, twice, before pulling away. They were still that kind of close where your eyelashes brush together, noses bumping with each breath. 

Chenle smiled and backed away, heading for the door to lead him back down. The stars could watch over his hyungs for the night. They needed the light far more than Chenle did. 

Jisung was in his room when he returned, phone on the lowest brightness setting to not disturb Chenle’s mother. He smiled and held his arms open, and Chenle fell into them with a sigh. 

Chenle didn’t know how he’d get through the worst nights without Jisung beside him. Hopefully, in each other, Renjun and Jaemin would find that comfort. 

“Hello!” Donghyuck said, excited tone a contrast to his deadpan expression. “This is Haechan from Haechan Cam with a 37.5% viewer rating.” 

The groans from his fellow members couldn’t be heard through the camera microphone, but they were there. 

They went through the next few minutes with a fallacy of normalcy, Chenle jumping up to dance in front of the camera as Donghyuck blabbered on. He wasn’t on camera for long, but his mother was still in the corner, full smile on display as he answered the questions Donghyuck asked him. 

Once the camera was back on Donghyuck and Renjun, Chenle wiggled his way over to Jisung, keeping his momentum from his dance on camera. 

Jisung snorted, “You’re in a good mood.” 

“What other mood is there?” Chenle asked. He had the overwhelming urge to tap Jisung on the bottom, but with all of the cameras and staff, he refrained. Sometimes Chenle wished he could channel Jaemin’s shamelessness into himself. 

Jaemin, who was running around with that stupid camera of his, making everyone pose for photos. 

“Chenle-yah! Look at hyung,” Jaemin said, already making funny faces and wiggling his fingers. “Come on, smile!” It was as if Chenle was a baby getting ready for photographs, but somehow, it still made him laugh. Jaemin snapped a few pictures before running off, bothering the rest of the members similarly. 

In English, Jisung said, “My baby’s so cute,” puffing his cheeks out as he pinched at Chenle’s. 

“M’not a baby,” Chenle wined, petulant and very childlike. 

Jisung cooed and lightly puckered his lips, not enough for any of the cameras to pick up on. “I know, sweetheart.” Chenle’s cheeks reddened at the pet name.

“Do we need to leave you two alone?” Renjun teased, pointing toward the exit as if he was willing to do so. Chenle wanted to say something, get him back with his knowledge of Jaemin and Renjun’s late-night roof scene, but he didn’t. 

It had been far too personal to tease with. That’s why Chenle had to be a bit more observant in their day to day lives. He’d find something. There was no way Na Jaemin could be quiet for long. 

Everyone turned as a group of older staff came in, most of them wearing some variation of scout uniform. They bowed properly as the group finished filtering in.

“We’d like to thank you for attending the 24th World Scout Jamboree,” One of the men began. “This is an extraordinary event for us. As you know, the Scouts is a 99-year-old organization based around being the best person you can be, and always helping others, no matter what challenges you may be facing. We believe that you, as a team, embody this statement wonderfully.”

Their translator went through what the man said for them, all of them clapping once he had finished speaking. Their heads were down bashfully, hands fiddling in front of shaking legs, but they still allowed themselves to feel proud. 

“You can talk to kids, we can’t. They don’t relate to us like they relate to you. We need you to inspire them.” He said, pausing to let the translator work. “Chenle, we have a lot of children that come through our organization that are facing new diagnoses, new and old treatment, and remission. We believe that you and your story could lift them up. Thank you for coming.” 

“Thank you for having me,” Chenle said, looking to Donghyuck to make sure he’d gotten it right. 

“You guys are just amazing,” The man spread his hands, body deflating a little. They bid the staff goodbye with a parting word for luck, and then it was time to warm up and get ready for their performances. 

Chenle sang in the corner as the group rehearsed the dances. He pushed his voice to its limit, up to the highest notes he could manage, before letting it settle back down. It didn’t hurt to sing. In a way, it was easier than talking. Even if the sound of his inhales got in the way of smooth performances, he still was ready to go. 

For all he knew, this would be his very last performance. He wasn’t letting anything get in his way of finishing it out strong. 

“Alright, let’s go, time to rehearse on the stage,” One of the coordinators said, and they all filed out of their tent. The stage wasn’t far from where they were set up, so Chenle skipped over his wheelchair and walked the whole way. 

“Here,” A staff member said, coming up to hold Chenle’s arm to help him up the stairs. 

“I’m okay, thank you,” Chenle said in English, taking the stairs easily. Renjun smirked at him, patting him on the back. 

Chenle would be sitting on a stool, a platform holding him up above the other members so he could be seen. It was a little more troublesome to get up onto it than the stage, the single-step much higher than the stairs. He made it up on his own and settled down onto the stool, thanking the staff when he was handed his hand-held microphone. 

They rehearsed the dances for each song that they planned to perform. Chenle sang his parts in each, learning how to hold his mic to get the least amount of noise from his trach. When he finally figured it out, they ran through each song one last time, the managers clapping in satisfaction as they finished. 

“We got it!” They said, and Chenle hopped off his stool. 

Jisung helped him down onto the stage, and Chenle would’ve complained had Jisung not instantly started gushing in his ear about how good he did. They exited the stage together, Jisung’s arm wrapped protectively around his waist. If asked, they would say Chenle had felt a bit faint, and Jisung was simply keeping him from falling on the stairs.

Fans were yelling for them even as they began to walk back to their waiting area. The group turned and waved, flashing their brightest smiles. 

“Cancel Cancer, Chenle!” A few of them yelled, and Chenle stopped long enough to bow and wave happily. 

They go back to have snacks and get changed for the performance. Chenle and Jisung share a packet of far too sugary hard candy, both of their tongues coming out a deep shade of red once they are done. Donghyuck made sure to show the vlog camera their “horror tongues” before going back to the rest of the group. 

Chenle’s outfit is simple but somehow revealing. He was wearing a button-up shirt, white jeans, and white converse. It was the first time he was given an outfit from the stylists that didn’t have a turtle neck already there or sown into it. He looked at himself critically, but he couldn’t pinpoint anything he necessarily disliked about the outfit.

Maybe instead of revealing, Chenle could say it was freeing. 

They made their way back to the stage, and suddenly Chenle was transported back to his last concert. The one before his whole life changed, scattered in bent pieces around him. A poorly done puzzle with no way to return it back to how it once was. 

Even without dancing, performing was still exhilarating. The sound of his fans screaming, the music pounding through his ears, the way his whole body felt the lyrics as he sang them. He called them deep from his soul, forcing them out of the throat that would never be the same again, yet it was all the better for it.

Chenle understood what it meant to be an idol in a way he hadn’t before. He was idolized, looked up to, and was a role model for children and teenagers younger than him. He was up on stage to inspire those who were suffering, to show them that life does go on. Even if there was no promise of tomorrow, he had the now, and that was all that mattered. 

He sang with all the strength left in him. All the passion and power his sickly body had held onto, preparing for the moment he returned. 

It’d been four months since his diagnosis, and there he was, singing in front of a crowd of fans.

Chenle’s eyes then fell to his members, so in sync and impressive with their movements. At that moment, he decided that he could go through the chemo side effects a thousand times if it meant seeing them every day. 

The crowd shouted for them as their final song ended. Chenle hopped up from his stool, and without help, made his way onto the main stage. Jisung and Jeno smiled widely at him as he took his place in their formation, bowing before their audience. 

The staff running the event come up and give a speech, passing the mic to each member as they say their own words for the crowd. Eventually, the microphone made its way to Chenle, and everyone went silent as he was asked a question. “What would you tell someone just getting their diagnosis and starting treatment?” 

He stood still for a moment, his deep breath accentuated by the wheezing sound coming from his trach. “I would say that you are not alone. That the darkness behind your eyes and that clenching in your heart will fade. I don’t know if it becomes easier, but it becomes manageable. You learn to live and thrive in your new normal.”

The translator spoke out for him, but Chenle made it clear he wasn’t done. 

“I cried a lot in the first month. I felt like I had done something wrong, like I failed in some way. But, I had my friends. I had my family. They held me up when I couldn’t anymore, and I mean that in a very literal sense sometimes. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be angry, confused. It’s okay to be disbelieving. Who expects something like this? Just don’t let the rest of your life be spent like that. No matter how many ‘days’ you’re given, each one is still yours to live. You have to keep living.” 

“I like that, the idea of not letting your days define you,” The staff said. 

“I don’t see the point. We all know we will die someday, I just know I’ll go sooner. I mean, it could be tomorrow, and it has nothing to do with having cancer.” Chenle said. 

“That is true. Living life with no restrictions is a huge topic,” The staff said, nodding along to the translator. 

“I was given a month at first. Then I had surgery and had my trach put in, and then I was given five. Then I went to chemo, and it started to work, and now I have a year. You just never know.” Chenle said. It was a big reveal, an aspect of his treatment he’d never spoken about. 

“Are you almost done with chemotherapy then?” The staff asked.

“I have one more round and then surgery in October to remove the last of the tumor,” Chenle said, and the crowd erupted into applause. The rest of Dream and the staff joined in as well, and somehow the group lapsed into a chant of Chenle’s name. 

“Zhong Chenle!”

“할 수 있다!”*

Everyone’s eyes widened as their fans from all over the world began to chant in Korean. Dream eventually joined in, all of them jumping up and down and encouraging the crowd to get louder. 

Chenle laughed bashfully, burying his face in his hands. He looked up and couldn’t help laughing again. The whole crowd, including those who hadn’t watched their performance, were trying to be a part of the cheer. 

“Thank you!” Chenle said in English, tilting his head back and staring up at the sky. 

“울지마, 울지마, 울지마!”* The crowd chanted, and everyone laughed as Chenle shook his head, willing the tears back. He would not cry. He’d done enough of that to last him quite a few lifetimes. 

“I love you all!” Chenle said instead, and everyone cheered. 

They were given a plaque and asked to take a photo, and they were then led off the stage. Jisung’s hand was back on the small of his back again, and it was clear the loud exclamations in the crowd were from the simple act. They looked at each other awkwardly and kept moving, overdramatic chuckles only caught by Donghyuck’s vlog camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> FUTURE WARNINGS:
> 
> Chapter 7: NONE (Small domestic fight. Jealous Jisung.)
> 
> Chapter 8-9: Beginning of a depression/accidental near death arc. Contains 3 parts.  
\- Vomiting, self-harm, fights, victim blaming, blood, explanation of depression and anxiety, hospitals, viruses, stomach flu, dehydration, confusion and delirium. (Most, if not all of these are resolved by the end of chapter 9)
> 
> Chapter 10: End of accidental near death arc.  
\- Blood, self-harm, near death, hospitals, panic attacks.
> 
> Chapter 11: NONE
> 
> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


	7. PART I: Cancel Culture Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You guys did absolutely amazing today,” A tall man with a harsh, clearly non-American accent said. They all clapped and said their thank-yous. “We would like to introduce someone to you all, especially you.” The man said, pointing at Chenle with a smile. 
> 
> “Me?” Chenle said in English, pointing back at himself. Their managers were smiling wide, cameras out, and trained on him and those in his immediate space. 
> 
> Instead of answering, one of the men leaned out and waved someone in. 
> 
> Everyone’s eyes widened, and gasps left their lips as a little boy entered the tent, eyes down on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ:
> 
> I've had a few people commenting on...all of my stories, saying that while my writing is good, it's very simple. If I responded to you with a thank you, I'm not directing this to you. If I didn't, well. I appreciate to some degree being told that I'm passable if not a bit simple in my writing. Let me reiterate, to a degree. You really don't need to go to all of my stories telling me that. English is my third language, yes, third. I do not have a very broad vocabulary and rely heavily on a translator for more hard hitting words, and even then, most of the time they can't be translated the way I want. A lot of words I need from my main language, translate as phrases that sound awkward. I work very hard to improve my English every day. I work very hard to improve my Korean every day. I'm not proud of my simplicity, but I do have works and ideas that I believe an English speaking audience would enjoy. Please be respectful. I don't like deleting comments. It makes me feel cowardly or like I'm hiding from something. I'm not. I just don't like feeling beat down. It's hard to post things when you're getting comments from the same 3 or 4 people telling you how simple your vocabulary is. 
> 
> To all the rest of you who told me once, or even with words of encouragement thrown in, thank you. I work hard to be someone you can turn to when you want renmin/chensung stories.

Just as the group was about to head out to explore the rest of the festival activities, one of their managers returned, three men in scout uniforms trailing behind them. All of Dream bowed, waving as they filed in and stood in a line in front of them. 

“You guys did absolutely amazing today,” A tall man with a harsh, clearly non-American accent said. They all clapped and said their thank-yous. “We would like to introduce someone to you all, especially you.” The man said, pointing at Chenle with a smile. 

“Me?” Chenle said in English, pointing back at himself. Their managers were smiling wide, cameras out, and trained on him and those in his immediate space. 

Instead of answering, one of the men leaned out and waved someone in. 

Everyone’s eyes widened, and gasps left their lips as a little boy entered the tent, eyes down on the ground. He looked up shyly, revealing his once hidden neck. The boy had a tracheostomy, just like Chenle. 

“Hello,” Chenle was in awe as he settled down on one knee in front of the boy. He was playing with his fingers, a tiny smirk on his lips as he wiggled from side to side. He was so small, barely up to Chenle’s chest, the hat on his head making him seem only a bit taller. 

'Hi,' The boy signed, waving shyly. He turned and buried his face in his mother’s skirt, everyone cooing at the sight. 

“What is your name?” Chenle asked, noticing the lack of a speaking valve. Sure enough, the boy signed out his name. 

“His name is Oliver,” His mother said, rubbing the boy’s head comfortingly. 

“Hello, Oliver. Are you having fun today?” Chenle stumbled over his English, minuscule gaps in his words feeling the size of entire canyon drops. The boy nodded and pulled his face a bit farther out of his mother’s legs, eyes catching predictably on Chenle’s own trach. 

“He said, ‘look, he has one too,’” The mom said as the boy signed, and Chenle laughed good-naturedly when his own translator told him the meaning. 

“I do,” Chenle responded. “We’re matching.” 

'He sings pretty still,' Oliver signed, and Chenle blushed at the praise. The little boy was slowly coming closer to not hiding behind his mother, little hand coming up to wave with a broad smile as his nerves slowly died down. 

“Thank you,” Chenle said, waving back. He tried to keep his features as soft and inviting as possible. He knew he looked off, and Oliver wouldn’t be the first to be a bit afraid of his appearance. Not many kids were quick to accept someone with something sticking out of their throat at the first meeting. 

'I want to sing like him,' Oliver said, pretending to sing with a fake microphone. Chenle laughed with the rest of the room, but still took a moment to think out his next response. 

“You can do anything your mind thinks,” Chenle said, and someone was quick to translate it to the correct idiom. Oliver pulled himself away from his mother to stand in front of Chenle.

His little hand came up nervously, pointer finger drifting over the speaking valve on Chenle’s trach. Chenle took a deep, shaky breath and sat still, allowing the boy to trace it with his finger. 

'Purple is my favorite color,' Oliver smiled wide, dropping his hand back at his side. 

“Mine, too,” And Chenle hadn’t been lying. Purple was his first ray of hope, the first color he saw other than white and green in that hospital room. It had been the color of Mark’s shirt and Jisung’s bracelet. It was the color of the device that allowed him to speak and freely express himself after a month of silence. “How old are you?” Chenle asked. 

The boy held up 6 fingers proudly. 

“Wow, so big,” Chenle said, widening his eyes and dropping his mouth in surprise. “Two hands!” 

'I’m not a baby anymore!' The boy signed, far too fast to be understood on the first try. 'I get to use the big kid playground at the hospital.'

“What do you like--what do you play for fun?” Chenle asked, and the little boy launched into fast hand movements, all encompassing the various activities to do. 

Slides, swings, spinning wheels, jump rope, and chalk drawings, but his favorite was going across the monkey bars.

'All by myself! I don’t need help,' Oliver added, making sure to say this directly to his mother and one of the men in the group who’d shown up. 

“You are strong and brave,” Chenle said. The little boy flexed his thin arms, and Chenle was quick to copy, the staff there for Dream all calling for Chenle and Oliver to look at them. It felt impersonal to have their photo taken for a website or video on YouTube, but Chenle smiled regardless. Oliver seemed so happy.

Jaemin was the next to come up with his camera, snapping a photo. “This is for us,” Jaemin said, showing it to Oliver and Chenle. The little boy opened his mouth in what looked to be a screech before charging himself at Jaemin, tackling him in a hug. 

'Mine?' He asked Jaemin. 

“Yeah, it’s yours, baby,” Jaemin said, lifting himself up to talk to the boy’s mother about how to send her the photo. 

'I like your hair,' Oliver said suddenly, turning back to look at Chenle. The boy had very little hair on his head. A small bit of regrowth, but nothing substantial. 

“It is fake,” Chenle smiles, lifting up the edge of his wig for Oliver to see. He still seemed enamored. He played with Chenle’s wig for a while, twisting the strands between two fingers and combing the rest with the opposite hand. 

“He’s very tactile, I’m sorry,” The mother said, but Chenle waved her off good-naturedly. Chenle himself was very tactile and liked to touch to ground himself. He’d always been a hand holder, a lap sitter, and very rarely had he fallen asleep as a child without his hand buried in someone’s hair. 

'It feels funny,' Oliver’s face mimics a laugh.

“It does,” Chenle agreed, feeling the synthetic fibers. Oliver, catching the sight of Chenle’s shaking hands, dropped the hair, and stared. Everyone held their breath before Oliver dropped himself onto Chenle’s chest, hugging him tightly. 

“What’s wrong?” Chenle whispered, wrapping his arms around the tiny body in his arms. 

'Mommy hugs me when my hands shake,' Was all he said. Chenle’s face scrunched up, the balloon-like feeling in his chest choking him up. 

“Thank you,” Chenle said. Oliver smiled and closed his eyes, letting Chenle rock him lightly. 

'Do you feel better?' Oliver asked. He must have attributed shaking hands to feeling sick or weak. 

“I do. You give very, very good hugs,” Chenle compliments. The little boy smiles but still has his eyes on Chenle’s hands. 

'You have someone to hug you when I leave, right?' Oliver asked, looking around at all the boys in turn. 

“I do. Lots of people. Very loving people,” Chenle said. “You hug your mom very strong, okay?” Chenle said, and Oliver nodded. 

'I do give the best hugs. Everyone says so,' Oliver said with a proud shrug.

“The best in the world!” Chenle said, pinching Oliver’s cheeks. He was so cute, so bright and loving for a boy going through so much. 

“Ollie, it’s about time for them to leave,” Oliver’s mother said, coming to stand next to her son. Oliver’s face dropped into a pout, and suddenly he was hiding behind Chenle’s back.

'No, he’s my friend now,' Oliver said. He held onto Chenle’s sleeve as his mom lifted him up, mouth open in a silent cry. 

Chenle stood, eye level with the boy in his mother’s arms, and smiled reassuringly. “We will talk again. Phone, anytime.” Chenle assured him, and the boy held his arms out for Chenle to hold him. 

Despite the boy being over his thirty-pound lift limit, Chenle took him and held him close. 

“He’s bad with goodbyes,” His mother said, sighing. “He’s said quite a few.”

Chenle could only imagine. He’d said quite a few himself. You never really knew who was going to come back to chemotherapy each session, but you always had hope that an empty chair held good news. Quite a few had, but another handful had not. It was hard, and it hurt, and Chenle couldn’t imagine a six-year-old saying goodbye to his friends like that.

“This is not goodbye,” Chenle said, and the boy looked up at him. “No goodbye. Only see you soon.” 

_Promise?_ The boy mouthed, holding his pinky out for Chenle. 

“I promise,” Chenle wrapped his larger pinky around the smaller one. 

Chenle handed the boy back to his mother, and with a parting wave, he was gone. Chenle’s face crumbled, and he turned, collapsing into Jisung’s waiting arms. 

Chenle knew that he shouldn’t have promised they’d see each other again. It was a lie. For all Chenle knew his surgery wouldn’t be successful. His cancer could spread. 

For all he knew, the little boy himself wouldn’t be around before Chenle got the chance to seek him out. 

“Face-time, baby. It’s okay,” Jisung whispered. Chenle nodded and took a deep, grounding breath. 

“I’m fine,” Chenle said. He pulled himself away and wiped at his eyes. Just as Chenle was about to turn to go sit down with his mother, a little body burst through the tent flaps, his beanie in his hands. 

He stopped in front of Chenle and held it up to him. 

_Yours,_ The boy mouthed, handing it over. Chenle took it and stared, long and hard. 

“No, I can’t take your hat, Ollie,” Chenle said, leaning back down to be on Oliver’s eye level. Before Chenle could hand it back, the boy had bolted again, leaving everyone wide-eyed and gaping mouthed. 

Chenle clenched the fabric in his hands, pulling it up to cover his face. The cameras were still on, catching his every reaction to the gift in his hands. He pulled it back down and looked at it, running his finger over the Love Your Melon logo. 

His mind drifted back to his dream. The one where Jaemin had been lying on the ground, Renjun had been hysterical and wasted away, and Jisung had been lying in Chenle’s bed. 

The beanie in his dream looked just like the one in his hands. He shook his head, willing the image away. Coincidence. He didn’t believe in prophetic dreams. 

He pulled the beanie over his wig even though it was climbing toward 37 degrees outside. He smiled at the cameras, pointing at the hat. “It’s so cute. My new friend gave it to me. I need to go home and find something to give him.” 

* * *

Chenle watched the video before it was posted almost a full month later. He was in his chair, Jaeah talking him through a color by number she was in the middle of when the link was sent to him.

Their meeting was chopped up and short, most of the more intimate parts omitted. They left Oliver singing with his fake microphone, the part he played with Chenle’s hair and the adorable flexing on Oliver’s part. To Chenle's surprise, the part Chenle promised Oliver it was just a see you later was there as well. In the end, they showed Oliver bursting in and leaving Chenle with the hat and then cut to Chenle, saying how much he cherished the gift.

However, the video's real end had Chenle smiling so wide his face began to ache. 

It was Oliver at home, dancing to NCT Dream’s new comeback music video. 

Chenle covered his mouth with his hand, a chuckle bursting from his chest. The boy seemed to go extra hard on Jaemin’s parts, and even made sure to wink at the camera during the ice cream line. Whenever Chenle’s voice came up, Oliver’s mother whispered that it was him, and the boy jumped and screamed the lyrics with him. 

The footage cuts one more time to Oliver’s face in the camera.

“I love you, Chenle!” He said, bright and clear. Chenle’s mouth dropped, and finally, his eyes honed in on the purple speaking valve on the boy’s trach. He'd been singing, screaming, laughing and talking. 

“I love you, too, kiddo,” Chenle chuckled, closing his laptop and pushing it to the side. What a short meeting that led to so much overwhelming love. He’d only managed to face-time them a few times during the month, but they had been fun, and he appreciated every moment he got. 

Jaeah, still coloring, turned back to him with an annoyed stare. “Are you done watching TV so we can color now?” She asked, pulling a paper seemingly out of nowhere. Chenle chuckled and reached out, taking the paper from her.

“Sorry, sorry, Oppa just got distracted,” Chenle said, accepting a packet of crayons from her as well.

“I’ll let it slide because you’re handsome, but that’s it,” Jaeah said without so much a flinch.

Jaemin wasn’t allowed to sit with him anymore. Seriously, when had she gotten so much sass? 

* * *

In the end, Chenle was a part of their Mini Game series, a Mafia video, and two interviews before the chemotherapy side effects became too overwhelming to work through. 

It was a week in, just as the fatigue and nausea began to return, that they did their final interview for Boom with Chenle by their side. The MCs were happy to have him, even if he mostly sat around and didn’t participate in any games. Apparently, seeing his face was enough for the fans, and so he took it in stride and made himself look as awake and present as possible. 

“Woah, Jaemin-ah! Dang!” The MC said, pulling Jaemin out of the group. He’d made a mistake in the game they were playing, making him the first loser. Chenle laughed at Jaemin’s pout, copying him as he plopped down next to Chenle. 

Renjun and Jeno joined them in that order, both groaning loudly. Renjun was splayed out in his chair, wide-eyed, and lost looking as if he couldn’t believe he lost so early when he usually made it to the end. Jeno patted him on the knee, but Renjun kicked him off playfully. 

Jaemin, shamelessly, reached over and pat Renjun on the butt. Renjun all but flew, shooting up and out of his chair with a shriek.

“Hey!” Renjun chuckled, settling himself back down. 

“Did you see that?” The MC laughed, pointing at a flustered Renjun. “I’ve never seen someone move so fast in my life!” 

“Truly shameless, Jaemin-hyung,” Chenle tisked, getting a finger to the side in retaliation. Chenle chuckled and shoved Jaemin’s hands away. 

Donghyuck ends up winning the game, and all of them are back sitting and waiting for the next part of the interview. The MCs stand with their cards tapping on their hands as they introduce the next segment. 

They answer questions about their new song and music video, about 127 and their comeback, and even potential new projects in the works. Renjun and Donghyuck do most of the talking, but every once in awhile, someone else will pop in with their own answers. 

“Who is your favorite NCT member?” Ah, indeed, the most original of all the questions. Chenle wondered how many times the exact same MCs had asked. In his mind, Chenle wracked his brain for a new answer he hadn’t yet given. 

By the time it was Chenle’s turn, he’d finally decided, blurting out, “Haechannie-hyung.” Everyone ooh-ed in surprise, Donghyuck jumping up to high five him and give him a half hug. 

“Wow, you’re getting quite a few stink eyes for that one!” The MC laughed, and Chenle noticed he was right. Jaemin and Renjun were glaring playfully beside him, and there was no mistaking Jisung’s clenched jaw either. Chenle laughed and covered his face. 

“He always sneaks me good food,” Chenle said, and Donghyuck nodded proudly.

“I do keep our Chenle well-fed with the tasty meals,” Donghyuck said. 

“I’m the one who buys them!” Jaemin said with no real heat, hands spread out in a typical what the Hell manner. 

“Chenle’s quite popular, isn’t he?” The MC teased, flapping his cards to show they were ready to move on. “Jisungie, your favorite hyung?”

“Jaemin-hyung,” Jisung said instantly, and all eyes whipped to him. Chenle’s heart dropped to his stomach. It was one of the first times Jisung hadn’t picked him, and it was the first without some deliberation before speaking. He tried to laugh without showing how much the quick confession hurt him. 

“Oh, our Jisungie must have hit his head. He never picks me,” Jaemin said. 

The MC splutters, “Every time you’re here, you say how hurt you are that Jisung doesn’t pick you, and now he does and still!” They’re laughing good-naturedly, teasing Jaemin for his indecisiveness, but Jaemin still only lets out an awkward chuckle. 

“Does this mean the journey to get Jisung to call me his favorite hyung is over?” Jaemin asked, looking between all of the members. 

“Jaemin-hyung lets me beat him at video games,” Jisung said, crossing his arms and leaning back smugly in his chair. Jaemin’s mouth dropped as he turned to look at the youngest.

“_That’s_ why you picked me? Oh come on,” Jaemin said, slapping the table in front of him. “Why do I even try?” 

The rest of the members answered, most having something to do with food or purchases made for them. They get an amazed sigh and a comment about being quite materialistic before they move on to the next few questions. 

Chenle was starting to feel nauseous as they got to the end of the interview. His hands tingled and hurt, and he couldn’t help but obsess over Jisung’s lack of eye contact with him the rest of the time. Jeno seemed to pick up on this too, looking between Chenle and Jisung with a confused puppy look, unable to do anything with the cameras on them. 

The MCs thanked them for their time, and they bowed to each other politely. Before anyone had the chance to say anything, Jisung was walking off and into their waiting room. Chenle looked back at the group, unable to figure out what exactly had happened. 

“Come on,” Jeno said, wrapping his arms around Chenle’s shoulders and leading him back. “You look uncomfortable. Are you feeling bad?”

“My hands hurt really bad, hyung,” Chenle said, trying to bend his fingers. They didn’t listen to him, and the small movement made the tingles shoot up into his wrist. He hissed, holding the warm appendages out and away from anything that could potentially touch them. 

“Let’s go get some ibuprofen and cream, yeah?” Jeno said, opening the door to their waiting room. Jisung was sitting in the corner on his phone, waiting for the stylists to return and take his outfit back from him. 

“Sungie?” Chenle said, oh so quiet. Jisung looked up but didn’t say anything. Feeling awkward, Chenle decided to sit on his own and wait for Jeno. 

He returned with two prescription Advil and the cream for his hands. Jeno looked up at Jisung, bent over his phone, and called for him, “Jisungie, can you get water, please? Chenle’s hands are hurting him.” 

Jisung shot up and filled a glass with water, handing it over to Jeno. Jisung hung around in the background but didn’t step forward to take over as he usually would.

Jaemin walked forward after a while, pulling Jisung by the wrist out of the room. Chenle watched them go with a frown. 

“Did I do something, hyung?” Chenle asked, hissing as Jeno pressed a bit too hard on his palm. 

“Sorry,” Jeno said, capping the numbing cream. “No, Lele. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Then why won’t he talk to me?” Chenle looked at the closed door, Donghyuck and Renjun hanging around suspiciously close. It was apparent they were listening in on whatever Jaemin and Jisung were talking about. 

Jeno didn’t say anything. He simply sighed and patted Chenle on the knee, giving him a strained smile. It didn’t make Chenle feel better whatsoever. 

Jaemin and Jisung didn’t return until they were all changed back in their regular outfits and getting ready to leave. Jisung still didn’t look at Chenle, but Chenle could see the glare Jaemin sent the youngest at the behavior. 

“I’ll meet you in the car,” Jisung said, directed at no one in particular. He grabbed his phone and walked out, chaotic energy about him that no one knew exactly how to deal with. Chenle hopped on the balls of his feet, hands scratching at each other despite the pain. He couldn’t stand still, not with Jisung so frantic and upset. 

“Let’s go, Lele,” Renjun said, pulling him by the wrist to keep Chenle from scratching anymore. They all left a bit more somber than they arrived, and the car ride home wasn’t much better. Jisung’s earphones were in, but it was clear no music was on. Chenle tried more than once to get Jisung’s attention, but he seemed far too engrossed in his book.

Chenle was observant enough to know he’d been on the same page since they left.

When they finally filed into their dorm, Chenle was fed up. He blocked Jisung’s pathway into the hallway leading to their bedrooms, his own glare set firmly in place. “What is your problem?” Chenle bit, and it did nothing more than make Jisung visibly bristle. 

“Move, Chenle,” Jisung said.

“No, not until you tell me why you’re ignoring me!” Chenle said, trying to ignore the way the group awkwardly fluttered through the living room. Chenle had also blocked them from running to their rooms to hide.

“I’m not ignoring you,” Jisung said, trying again to brush past Chenle. He could easily do so, Chenle was undeniably weak, but Jisung still stayed trapped behind Chenle’s outstretched arms. 

“Just tell me what I did. I can’t fix it if every time I do something, you lock yourself in your room!” Chenle begged. 

“Chenle, please move. I don’t want to talk about this right now,” Jisung said, grabbing at Chenle’s wrist to move it from the wall. 

It hurt, and Chenle’s mouth mimicked a hiss as he ripped his hand out of Jisung’s grasp. 

_“Chenle,”_ Jisung said, pulling back like he’d been burned. 

“It’s fine, it’s the same as always,” Chenle said, not wanting Jisung distracted. “Will you please just be an adult and talk to me?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about. I just want to be alone,” Jisung said, still staring at Chenle’s wrist. Chenle ground his teeth and nodded, turning around to throw himself in his room, slamming the door behind him. He gasped in breaths, trying his best to calm himself down. 

Chenle hated arguing with Jisung. Most of the time, they were so simple; someone not cleaning up or someone losing something the main culprits. They’ve screamed in each other’s faces plenty before, most of the time leading to one of them crying and the other apologizing. They forget what they had even started fighting about, and then it was over and done. 

Even with Chenle’s weak grasp on his anger lately, they still had never fought long enough for one of them to end up in a separate room. 

Someone knocked, and Chenle pulled the door open. It was Renjun. 

“Hey,” Renjun said, shutting the door behind him. Chenle turned away and threw himself into his bed, refusing to look up at Renjun’s prompting. “Jaemin’s going to talk to Jisung.”

“Didn’t he do that at the venue?” Chenle asked. Renjun just sighed. 

“He’s jealous, Lele,” Renjun said, settling himself down on Chenle’s bed. Chenle looked up with a disbelieving stare before laying back down again.

“Of what? How do you know?” Chenle asked, clenching his eyes as his hands throbbed. The bed sheets were like tiny needles against them, and if Jisung hadn’t been upset with him, he’d have already asked for help. Jisung was the only one who knew how to properly apply the numbing cream onto his hands. 

“You saying Donghyuck is your favorite, and Jaemin told me,” Renjun said, shaking his head with a smile. “Drama. Both of you.”

“Me?” Chenle said. “I’m the one who tried talking to him. How am I dramatic?” Chenle hated it when people called him dramatic. He’d read enough of it in comments on their videos recently. 

“Aren’t you the one who ignored him for an hour for misplacing your hoodie?” Renjun asked, kicking his socked foot on the carpeted floor. 

“It’s my favorite one,” Chenle defended. 

“Why?” Renjun asked, stilling long enough to look Chenle in the eyes. 

“Because he bought it for me when I said how cold the hospital is,” Chenle whispered, playing with the tag on his pillow. Renjun smiled sadly. 

“He loves you so much, Lele,” Renjun said. “He feeds off your constant affirmations. He wants you to say he’s your favorite.”

“How childish,” Chenle groaned, trying to hide his smile. “Jisung says I’m the baby.” 

“You’re his obnoxious, loud baby,” Renjun cooed. 

“I’m not a baby,” Chenle glared. Renjun nodded his head and patted Chenle lightly on the head.

“I know, you’re a petulant little toddler. Babies are cute,” Renjun said. 

“How do you always find a way to make everything worse?” Chenle asked, digging his elbow into Renjun’s side. Renjun just laughed and shoved him away. 

There’s another knock on the door, and Renjun is up to answer it before Chenle can say a word. Standing outside is Jisung, head down and numbing cream in his hand. 

“I uh-” Jisung started, but Renjun just motioned him inside. 

“I’ll be in the living room,” Renjun said, shutting the door behind him. Jisung and Chenle were in an awkward stalemate for a while, eyes staring deep and hurt. 

Jisung shuffled forward, dropping down to sit next to Chenle on the bed. They don’t say a word as Jisung gently lifts Chenle’s hand into his lap, the cap on the cream clicking in the silence. He took his time, running over each finger, every dip paid so much care. He rubbed gently at Chenle’s palm, thumb massaging over every noticeable line, dropping off at his wrist.

They both wonder how long a palm reader would say his life should be. 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispered. 

“For what?” Chenle still felt a bit petty. 

“For ignoring you. For not helping you when you needed me,” Jisung said, wiping quickly at his eye. Chenle lifted himself up and hugged Jisung to him tightly. 

“Don’t cry. It’s okay,” Chenle said. “Just tell me what’s going on. I can’t do anything to fix it unless I know. Is this really about me saying Donghyuck-hyung is my favorite?” Chenle asked, pulling back enough he could catch Jisung’s gaze. The lack of a response was a sufficient answer. 

“Oh, my Jisungie,” Chenle said, kissing Jisung gently. “It wouldn’t be fair if you were even in the equation. If you’re a choice, no one else would have a chance.” Jisung exhaled in some form of a laugh. 

“This is so stupid,” Jisung shook his head. “I don’t know why it bothers me so much. It always has.” Chenle listened as Jisung talked, not wanting to interrupt. “It’s just that, with you, I can’t pick anyone else. You’re it. It makes me feel weird when you pick someone else, even if it’s just for a show.” 

“Sungie, you’re it for me, too,” Chenle started. “There’s no one above you. You are my best friend, my soulmate. There is no competition. I never even think of choosing you in those interviews because everyone already knows. It’s like putting a dancer with five years of experience against one with two years. You already know who will win.” 

“I can already hear Jaemin’s heart bleeding from the living room,” Jisung chuckled. Chenle scrunched up his face and shrugged. 

“I love you. I want to be with you. I whatever you. All I know is that you are the one I want to experience everything with,” Chenle said. “I love Donghyuck, too, but it’s way different. It’s like being jealous of my brother or something.” Chenle fake gagged. 

“I love you,” Jisung said, pulling Chenle in for another kiss. 

They stayed like that for a while, lips sliding against each other gently. It’s Chenle, always Chenle, that is the first to guide it deeper. He flicks his tongue over Jisung’s bottom lip and the younger’s lips part. Chenle wants to whine, wants to show how much he appreciates Jisung sucking experimentally on his tongue as they kiss, but he can’t. 

The sound got stuck, and it frustrated him enough he pulled away. 

“What’s wrong?” Jisung asked. It wasn’t the first time they’d kissed that deeply, but they were still so shy. Everything was so new, and they didn’t know what to do with all of their urges and feelings. For Chenle to pull back was strange regardless. 

“It’s nothing,” Chenle said. Jisung raised his eyebrows. “It’s embarrassing.” He changed his explanation. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed with me,” Jisung said, running his hand up and down Chenle’s outer thigh. 

“I can’t-” Chenle started, body deflating as his whole face heated up. “I can’t make _those_ noises,” Chenle whispered so quietly Jisung almost couldn’t hear him. 

“What noises, baby?” Jisung asked. “You mean like-” Jisung waved his hand as if that had anything to do with what they were talking about, but Chenle nodded regardless. 

“They just don’t come out,” Chenle still was too quiet to properly hear, but Jisung had become accustomed to that way of speaking. Sometimes when Chenle was sick and exhausted, he was unable to produce a sound any louder than a whisper. 

“Does it hurt?” Jisung asked. Chenle shook his head. “Then it’s okay. I just want to be with you.” It was clear they both felt awkward, Chenle’s face buried in Jisung’s shirt to hide his blush. 

“This is the most awkward conversation we’ve ever had, and I’m not here for it,” Chenle said, and Jisung laughed openly. 

“Yeah, I agree,” Jisung said, scratching his neck. 

“Well, that ruined the mood,” Chenle chuckled. “Wanna go let them know we didn’t kill each other?” Jisung hummed and helped Chenle up.

They barely make it to the door before Chenle is saying, "By the way, it's just a show." 

"Hey! Don't make fun of me," Jisung pouted, feet planted in the carpet as Chenle ran out of the room with a teasing laugh. Jisung stayed still, face dropping a little. Chenle would always be a secret. From his family, from their fans, from the world. He would do what he could to show his love. 

"The whole world sees those shows," He whispered far quieter, only for himself to hear. He sighed and jogged out of the room, intending on catching up with his far too excitable boyfriend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> To all of my dedicated and loving readers, please keep in mind that Chapter 8 begins the final arc of Part 1 of this story. I have decided to split it into three parts titled EMPATH, HOPE, and JOY. They will all be in the same story, but with PART 1, 2, or 3 written before the chapter title to indicate a split between parts. I will be updating to reflect this tonight.
> 
> Chapter 8-10 will have elements that can be triggering to readers. Self-harm and depression are the main events, as well as medical emergencies and hospitals. Chapter 11 is the completion of this arc. We will then move on to HOPE, which will begin much lighter and with a lot of healing from part 1. I thank you for reading and enjoying this story. We have come so far already. We are no where near the end of this monster, but I have put a lot of heart and love into it, and I hope I don't disappoint you.
> 
> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


	8. PART I: Empath Pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung turned to Jaemin with a sad, broken frown. Jisung never cried. He never complained. Jisung, their seventeen-year-old youngest member, was quite possibly the only one who had entirely held himself together. It broke their hearts as Jisung’s lip wobbled, his face falling to Jaemin’s shoulder. 
> 
> “I want to see him again,” Jisung sobbed. “They said a year. This can’t be it, hyung.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends the endless, arduous task of deleting chapters 8-10 and rewriting them. I have hit my deadline, and therefore, we begin the last four chapters of part 1 of this series. 
> 
> These next few chapters are very dear to me. They were written with a modicum of truth and real life experience in my case. It goes through one of the hardest experiences for someone to live through, and I do not write these chapters without care and research and experience. It is not a trope, it is a genuine tragedy in life. I write this with that in mind. 
> 
> WARNINGS FOR CHAPTER 8-10: Depression, anxiety, anxiety attacks, vomiting, norovirus, hospitals, near-death, near major character-death, blood, self-harm, accidental near-suicide, fighting, implied past smut (this word seems too crude, but I can't think of another) (renmin), non-described surgery, ventilators. 
> 
> These chapters took a lot of time. I wrote them in a bit over a month, and I'm still not sure if I'm entirely happy with them. I am in love with the ending of this arc however, so I hope you stick around and enjoy!
> 
> TRACKLIST WITH SONGS ADDED FOR CHAPTERS 8-11:  
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2b1mFlfBa4bbW5peg0R4rq?si=Zqg5hEonR3KSFNXVFHPdBw

Chenle found through a month of observation that Jaemin didn’t want to wake up most days. It was a stark contrast to his near chronic habit of staying up until six am, hands flying over keys and feet tapping the ground rhythmically as he practiced their dances. He said he had so much stuff to do and that he couldn’t sleep because he’d lose his momentum.

Yet, each time Jaemin managed to nod off, it took him nearly three hours to even lift his phone and go through it. 

It didn’t matter how it happened. It could be early and cold, or late and warm. Renjun could be fast asleep in his arms or gone with a note. It didn’t change anything. Jaemin still groaned and pulled at his hair, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling. 

No one thought to check up on him most days. They were between comebacks and had no real obligations. It wasn’t as if waking up at one or two after falling asleep at five was strange, anyway. 

Most of the time, he was teased, a quick, “Wow, Jaemin actually dragged himself out of bed before four?” Thrown at him. Jaemin would give them a fake laugh and deadpan, getting in the fridge for the milk and a packet of cold latte mix. Once he had his coffee, he returned to his room, not to be seen until nearly ten when he made himself dinner. 

That day, Chenle felt awful. Worse than he’d ever felt in all his treatments. His throat hurt, his head was killing him, and he’d spent the whole night throwing up and shaking in Jisung’s arms. He was exhausted and in pain, and all he wanted was to lay down and have someone next to him. 

With Jisung and the rest of the members busy or in the middle of other things, Chenle turned to the one person he knew who might have felt as tired as him. 

He tried to hold back his hitching breath as he pushed open the door. Jaemin was lying in bed, phone in his hand, just like always. He was scrolling through Instagram, occasionally stopping on a photo. 

“Hyung?” Chenle could barely speak. Jaemin hadn’t heard him, and with a pained grimace, Chenle said, “Hyung.” Chenle let out a stuttered exhale, his blistered mouth on fire as he spoke just a tiny bit louder. Jaemin looked up, blank-faced. 

“What’s wrong, Lele?” Jaemin, despite the deep black bags on his eyes and the pull of exhaustion, was up and sitting.

“It hurts,” Chenle said, not sure what to expect. Jaemin seemed so aloof and uncaring it almost scared him. Despite his apathetic disposition, and without even a second of hesitation, Jaemin jumped out of his bed, pulling blankets back and setting up pillows. He then went to stand in front of Chenle, the younger’s body shaking as his waist bent and straightened over and over, unable to hold itself up. 

“Can I carry you?” Jaemin asked. Chenle nodded.

“Please, it really hurts, hyung,” Chenle cried. Jaemin was gentle as he lifted Chenle up and into his arms, ambling slowly to not jostle him. He laid Chenle down, shushing him gently as the younger boy cried out. “It’s never been this bad. I want it to stop, hyung.” 

Jaemin’s lips were pressed together, eyes open as wide as they could go as they began to shine. 

“Hyung, I can’t anymore. Make it go away. Make it stop,” Chenle cried. Jaemin settled down on the bed and cautiously grabbed one of Chenle’s red, warm hands. 

“What can hyung do for you, Lele? What do you need?” Jaemin all but begged for an answer. 

“Lay with me,” Chenle said, shuffling himself shakily toward the wall. Jaemin collapsed instantly next to Chenle, kicking the blankets farther down the bed. There were few fabrics Chenle would allow to touch him when his body ached so harshly, and most blankets did not pass the test. 

“What’s the song Renjun sings for you?” Jaemin asked, pulling Spotify up on his phone. Chenle told him, raw and shaking voice cutting out with just three words. Jaemin pushed play on the song and set it up on the nightstand, allowing it to wash through the room. 

Jaemin hesitantly ran his hand up and down Chenle’s slowly expanding chest. It would jump with a stuttered inhale and then slowly lower, stilling too long before repeating the process. It scared Jaemin. It felt like he was watching Chenle die.

_Let’s get on another flight,_  
_Maybe set out to sea._

Jaemin sang, raspy and unsure of the lyrics. 

_Kick it up and shake our fists at it,_  
_‘Cuz death is harder to come by,_  
_Than it is to breathe._

Chenle’s breathing had begun to even out already, eyes drifting closed and then slowly opening, trained desperately on Jaemin’s face. Chenle could still see him, could still hear him. He’d gotten up and walked to his room. This wasn’t it. Chenle wasn’t dying. 

_When you gotta make a break for it_  
_Cuz it’s been a long time of this._

“You can sleep, Lele,” Jaemin said, oh-so-gently. Chenle’s eyes closed, and Jaemin was left to sing the final line without an audience. 

_Something has got to give._

* * *

Jaemin woke up to Chenle sobbing next to him. 

He shot up and looked at the clock, seeing that they’d both only managed to nod off for half an hour. He put a hand on Chenle’s forehead and froze, “Chenle, wake up!” Jaemin said, squeezing Chenle’s arm as he dialed Chenle’s oncologist. 

He had a fever. 

“Hyung, it hurts,” Chenle sobbed, covering his stomach. 

“What hurts, baby? Guys! Jeno, Jisung, Renjun-ah!” Jaemin screamed, the call went to voicemail, and Jaemin nearly dropped his phone in his speed to redial. 

“What’s going on?” Renjun said, crashing into the room with Jisung in tow. 

“It hurts, hyung!” Chenle yelled. Jisung and Renjun dropped onto the bed, both with hands landing on Chenle’s forehead at the same time. “My stomach, it hurts,” Chenle choked on his own tears, legs coming up and away from the bed. 

“Hello?” Jaemin said into the phone. “Get the car, now,” Jaemin said. “Hi, Dr. Kim, it’s Na Jaemin. Chenle’s in a lot of pain and has a fever. We’re taking him to the ER.” 

Jaemin pulled a thermometer out of his nightstand and held it to Chenle’s forehead, pulling it back once it beeped. He could see the red before he even looked at the number.

“It’s 39.2. We’re going now,” Jaemin said, allowing Jisung to lift Chenle into his arms and rush him down the stairs. The doctor asked about his symptoms. When they began, if they had progressively gotten worse or come on suddenly. Jaemin told him everything he knew and, with a promise that Chenle’s doctor would be there to meet them, hung up the phone. 

Jeno was already in the driver’s seat when Jaemin threw himself into the passenger seat. They pulled out of their parking spot with a screech, and as they sped down the street, Jaemin saw Johnny and Taeyong bolt out of the front door. 

“We’re about to get a few calls,” Jaemin said, holding his phone tightly. Chenle was moaning in the back, body jolting as his stomach throbbed. Jisung had his forehead connected to Chenle’s, his mouth continuously moving as he reassured him that everything would be okay. They were going to get him help. 

“Sungie, Sungie, I want it to stop,” Chenle said, looking up at him, pleas pouring out of his mouth like a broken record. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.

“I know. I know, Chenle. It will, we’re almost there,” Jisung was hysterical, body rocking forward and back as he tried to soothe the other boy. 

The sound of four phones ringing ripped through the car, and Chenle instinctively covered his ears at the sound. 

Renjun was the first to answer, “Hello?” He said in Chinese. It was someone from WayV, then. 

Jaemin received a call from Taeyong, and he was quick to answer as well. “Hey, Chenle has a fever of 39.2. He’s in a lot of pain. We had to take him to the ER.” Jaemin said without any prompting. “Jeno’s driving and Jisung’s calming him down. The phones are hurting his ears.” 

Taeyong said, not to Jaemin, “Stop calling them. Chenle’s in bad shape.” 

“He’s really bad,” Jaemin said, turning back to see Chenle’s eyes slipping closed again. “I’m scared, hyung. Please come to the hospital.” 

“We’re on our way, Jaemin. Hold on, hyungs will be right behind you,” Taeyong said, accentuated by the sound of a car door slamming shut. Jeno grabbed Jaemin’s hand without looking at him, squeezing it tightly as he drove. 

Several nurses were waiting for them as they arrived. Jeno slammed on his breaks, rocking them all forward and back like rag dolls. Jisung was the first to shoot out of the car, Chenle still and limp in his arms. 

“Help him,” Jisung was hyperventilating as he handed Chenle over. “Help him, please.” They took Chenle and laid him on a stretcher, all but one of the nurses running inside. Jisung watched them go. He didn’t hear a word the nurse said as he crumbled, knees hitting the concrete floor. 

“Jisungie, breathe, hyungs are with you,” Jaemin said, rubbing Jisung’s chest to will him to take a proper breath. The nurse bent down to Jisung’s eye level and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“They’re going to take your friend to an isolation room for testing. They probably have already given him antibiotics to treat any potential infection. If it’s from his chemotherapy drugs, they’ll work on changing the medications. If it’s from an infection, they will keep him isolated and keep an eye on him, alright?” She asked, trying to explain the procedure as best as possible. 

All Jisung could think about was how shallow Chenle’s breathing had been. How lifeless his eyes looked. “I need to sit down. Or lay down, I feel really dizzy,” Jisung said, and Jeno was at his side in a flash. He held Jisung up as his ears began to ring, fingers and toes tingling before a quick burst of nausea hit him. Jeno lowered Jisung to the ground as his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Jisungie!” Jaemin and Renjun shouted, but the nurse was quick to put a hand up to calm them.

“He’s alright. This is very normal. He’ll come back to us quickly, and then we can get him somewhere to rest while we wait to hear from Chenle-ssi’s doctor, okay?” She said. Everyone nodded and sat, ever so still. 

A car door opened and shut, and a voice called out, “Oh God!” Jaemin turned to see Taeil, Johnny, and Taeyong running to them, all with varying forms of shock written on their faces.

“What happened? Is he okay?” Taeyong said, falling next to Jisung. The nurse smiled and explained that he had been overwhelmed, it was a common occurrence. It didn’t seem to satisfy Taeyong in the least. “Why is he lying on the fucking concrete?”

“We need to wait until he wakes up to move him,” The nurse said, still calm, even with Taeyong glaring daggers.

“Hyung?” A tiny voice said, and they all looked down to see Jisung’s eyes fluttering open. 

“Hey, baby, hyungs are here. Do you know what happened?” Taeyong’s voice softened considerably. Jisung looked around but didn’t say anything in response. “Is that normal?” Taeyong asked. The nurse came forward.

“Jisung-ssi, can you hear me?” She asked. Jisung nodded. “Can you follow my finger for me?” She stuck her pointer finger in Jisung’s face, observing as Jisung’s eyes followed the digit smoothly. She hummed happily and leaned back. 

“Why don’t we go find somewhere nicer to lay down, yeah? I’ll bring you some juice, and we’ll get you feeling better,” The nurse said, helping Jeno and Taeyong lift Jisung up to his feet. He toppled to the side, nearly crashing back to the ground. 

“Still light-headed?” Taeyong asked. Jisung nodded minutely. “Want hyung to carry you?” 

“No, I’m okay,” Jisung said but didn’t push them away as they helped him into the building. They walked into the oncology ward’s waiting room, and the nurse walked over to one of the couches with a recliner built into it. 

“One of our nice new additions. I know you have been here before,” The nurse said. Jisung hummed as Taeyong and Jeno settled him down. Renjun quickly popped the footrest up and pushed the chair back down, allowing Jisung to close his eyes and breathe through lingering nausea. “It’ll probably be about thirty minutes before he’s ready to be up and moving, but I’d get him walking after that time. The juice should help a lot with the weakness.” The nurse said, and half of the group offered a quick thank you before she was off. 

Jaemin wrapped his body around Jisung’s without hesitation. “My baby, hyungs are here. Always right here.” 

Jisung turned to Jaemin with a sad, broken frown. Jisung never cried. He never complained. Jisung, their seventeen-year-old youngest member, was quite possibly the only one who had entirely held himself together. It broke their hearts as Jisung’s lip wobbled, his face falling to Jaemin’s shoulder. 

“I want to see him again,” Jisung sobbed. “They said a year. This can’t be it, hyung.” 

“Don’t talk like that. You’ll see him again, Jisung-ah,” Jaemin said. 

“I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t tell him I love him. I just said it would be okay. What if it isn’t? What if my last words to him were a lie?” Jisung wrapped his arms loosely around Jaemin’s neck. 

“Stop that right now, Park Jisung,” Renjun bit. They all looked up to see him staring down, teeth grinding together. “This isn’t it. You’ll see him again. I refuse to believe that we did all this, went through all of this together, just for him to die from the flu.” 

The nurse came back then, stopping anyone from responding to Renjun’s outburst. She handed Jisung a bottle of apple juice and a straw with a strained smile. Jisung thanked her quietly, and she was gone again. 

“Let hyung help you,” Jaemin whispered, taking the straw and juice. He opened the cap and pulled the wrapping off the straw, dunking the flimsy paper into the drink. “Drink well, Jisungie. You’ll feel less weak.” Jaemin said, holding the straw to Jisung’s lips. He tentatively took a sip, the sweetness making his face scrunch up. 

Immediately after, Jisung could feel the sip of juice smash into his stomach. He leaned forward, pulling in a deep breath through his nose. Everyone was around him, trying to soothe back the panic and fear to help his nausea quell, but nothing was working. 

He didn’t end up vomiting, but he got very close. He could feel the burn in the back of his throat, the taste making him gag unproductively. Everyone cooed over him, brushing his hair with their fingers, rubbing his back, holding his hands. He felt claustrophobic, squished in between his members. 

“I feel really sick, hyungs,” Jisung said. Jaemin and Renjun lifted him up to his feet, helping him wobble his way to the bathroom. When they settled Jisung down against the stall wall, Renjun was the first to put a hand to Jisung’s forehead. 

“Oh no,” Renjun whined, feeling his head again. “Jaemin, feel.” 

Jaemin did as he was told, hissing a little at the feeling. “Oh, Jisungie, you’re so warm, baby.” 

Jisung’s head shot up, eyes catching with his hyungs. “What?” Jisung said, voice cracking. 

“It’s alright, there must be something going around,” Renjun said, trying to soothe him. 

“You mean-” Jisung said, waving between himself and the door. “I did that to him? This is my fault?” Both of their mouths dropped.

“What? No! What are you talking about?” Jaemin said, wiping away the tears on Jisung’s cheeks. It made sense now why he was so openly upset. Jisung always had a hard time controlling his emotions when he had a fever. 

“If I’m sick, and now he is, then that means I gave it to him,” Jisung said, burying his face into his bent knees. He entertained the thought of Chenle having given it to him, but it made him feel like a terrible person. Like he was blaming Chenle for how sick he felt. 

“Stop, Sungie. It’s not your fault,” Renjun begged, trying to pull Jisung’s face back up. He wouldn’t budge. “You didn’t know you were sick. Hell, the only thing you said this morning was that you were tired. We’re all tired. It makes sense you wouldn’t know.”

“For all we know, I could’ve given it to him,” Jaemin said. “I’ve been feeling so damn run down.” They all were well aware of Jaemin’s lack of energy, especially in the morning hours. Still, it didn’t explain Chenle nor Jisung’s illness. It clearly wasn’t one that incubated for a month. 

No one seemed to want to acknowledge that the sickness had started in Chenle, or perhaps someone else in the company he’d been around. Hell, his white blood cell count had dropped so low that he could’ve picked it up anywhere. 

Jisung said, “You don’t kiss him every day, hyung,” despite the knowledge lingering tantalizingly in the air. Jisung sniffled wetly, and Renjun grabbed enough toilet paper to wipe at Jisung’s nose. 

“No, but he eats off the same spoon as me,” Jaemin tried to reason, but it didn’t work. Jisung was still tensed up and upset. 

The door opened hesitantly, Taeyong rounding the corner with a worried frown. “Is he okay?” 

“He has a fever, hyung,” Jaemin said. Taeyong’s eyes closed, a deep breath rattling through his chest. 

“Can hyung feel, Jisungie?” Taeyong asked, lowering himself to a crouch. Jisung just nodded into his knees. 

Taeyong gently placed the front of his wrist on Jisung’s neck, moving up behind his ear. Taeyong shook his head, collapsing back onto his bottom. “Looks like we’re going to have something making rounds. I need to call Kun and Yuta and let them know. We might be in for a rough week.” 

“Does your throat hurt, Jisungie?” Renjun asked. Jisung swallowed a bit too harsh, testing it out. 

“Not a lot,” Jisung said. 

“What’s the worst?” Taeyong asked, finishing off a text to the WayV leader. 

“Stomach. I thought it was just from earlier, but it’s awful now,” Jisung whined. 

“Pretty sudden, huh?” Taeyong asked, running all the possible illnesses Jisung and Chenle could have through his mind. 

Just as Taeyong was about to give up, Jisung lurched forward. Jaemin and Renjun hardly got him to the toilet fast enough to avoid spewing his breakfast from that morning all over the bathroom floor. “Hyungs,” Jisung sobbed, pressing hard on his abdomen. 

“Stomach flu it is,” Taeyong groaned, thinking of how quickly the damn virus spread. They would all have it by the next day. “Have any of the rest of you been feeling off?” 

“Just tired,” Jaemin admitted. “It was a bit hard to eat this morning, but nothing too bad.” That was true. Jaemin, while run down, always ate well when he found the energy to drag himself to the kitchen. He’d eaten a handful of pecans laying out on the counter and a bite of rice before slinking off back to his room. 

“Well, this one likes to take it’s time and then hit all at once. I think we need to get you two home,” Taeyong said, jumping up to peel Jisung off the floor. A bit deliriously, Jisung allowed his body to go limp, refusing to get up. 

“No, I need to be here,” Jisung said, trying to pull his hands out of his hyungs’ grasp. Jisung lurched forward again, Jaemin instantly moving to rub his back as he vomited. Taeyong had left at some point, throwing out that he needed to tell Chenle’s doctor about their discovery and get the car ready. “Can’t leave,” Jisung said, dry heaving over the toilet. 

“You’re not going to want to be here when the worst of this starts,” Renjun said, frowning. They knew he was right. The vomiting was the least of their worries. 

A few vomiting spells later, Taeyong and Johnny returned with a more light air about them.

“Jisungie,” Johnny started, trying to get the youngest’s attention. Jisung looked up shakily. “Chenle has norovirus. They’re going to give him medicine to stop the vomiting and something for the pain and keep him until the fever goes down, okay? They said he will be just fine. We need to get you home so you can rest and be all better when it’s time for him to come home.” 

“What if I throw up in your car?” Jisung whined, pouting his lips out. Johnny smiled, running a soothing hand over Jisung’s red face. 

“Then we get it cleaned. Come on, let’s go,” Johnny said, lifting Jisung up into his arms. 

“I can walk,” Jisung grumbled, lying his head comfortably on Johnny’s shoulder. 

“I know,” Was all the response he got. 

Sure enough, by the time they’d arrived home, Jaemin had thrown up on the side of the road twice. He was quiet, only occasionally letting out soft moans of discomfort as Renjun helped him up the stairs. Jisung, who had fallen asleep in the car, was being carried in by Johnny. 

“You’re probably next, Renjun-ah,” Taeyong said with a sigh. 

“I don’t feel bad?” Renjun said, settling himself next to Jaemin on his bed. 

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Taeyong nodded morosely, lifting himself up to go check on Jisung. With Taeyong out of the room, Renjun turned and pressed his forehead to Jaemin’s. It was eerily reminiscent of Jisung and Chenle in the car with Renjun’s constant assurances. 

“You’ll get sick,” Jaemin whined, pushing Renjun away. 

Renjun just smiled sadly, pressing a kiss to Jaemin’s lips, “It’s too late to be worried about that. Just let me take care of you.” They were silent, Renjun running his hand gently over Jaemin’s stomach. He tried to lift the shirt up a little, but Jaemin was quick to stop him. 

It wasn’t a surprise, but it still frustrated Renjun a little. All the things they’d done and Jaemin suddenly wasn’t okay with him lifting his shirt to soothe the ache from his sickness. 

“When are we going to tell them?” Jaemin whispered, tracing Renjun’s nose with his finger. He was trying to take Renjun’s attention off his actions, but it didn’t work. Jaemin had once been so shameless, even going as far as showing off his body to their fans. For him to be suddenly nervous around _Renjun_ of all people? It settled like a lead brick in Renjun’s chest.

“Whenever. I just wanted to make sure this was real,” Renjun said. Jaemin chuckled and shook his head. 

“Always was. So insecure, Junnie,” Jaemin somehow still managed to coo. “So, so beautiful.” Jaemin nearly slurred, eyes blinking slowly as his body gradually gave in to the pull of sleep. Renjun rolled his eyes and smiled fondly.

“Yeah, okay. Go to sleep, Nana,” Renjun said. 

Renjun stared as Jaemin’s breath evened out. He’d noticed how Jaemin had begun to act, avoiding sleep until it was absolutely necessary and then fighting to regain his momentum to lift himself out of bed. Their relationship had started to suffer for it, once very new and exciting aspects now drowned out and pushed to the side. It was a stroke of luck if Renjun could get Jaemin to properly kiss him, let alone anything else. 

Chenle knew something was up with them, it was apparent. He’d been teasing them relentlessly, cooing and gushing over any act the two made toward each other. It had died out recently with his chemotherapy side effects, but it was still there. The small, “you left Jaemin’s side?” always managing to leave his blistered lips.

Renjun had been ready to tell the group after the Jamboree. He’d been sure that what they had was real and not just a byproduct of them both needing something. Jaemin was always so put together, so strong, that Renjun had initially attributed it to Jaemin needing an outlet, not genuine love or care. 

Then as the month went on, Renjun started to see the little things. The way Jaemin would bring him coffee in the morning, help him brush his hair, wipe his mouth after he brushed his teeth. The way he’d spin Renjun around as they danced stupidly in their rooms, the way he’d smile so soft that his teeth barely showed as they nearly toppled over from inexperience.

Renjun knew Jaemin was depressed. Their roles had switched quite suddenly, from Jaemin being the caretaker to Renjun. It scared him a little. Jaemin, the one who had been so eager, now wouldn’t let Renjun do so much as pull his shirt over his head. 

“Why won’t you let me help you?” Renjun whispered, brushing Jaemin’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. 

Renjun shuffled a bit on the bed, bracing his arm under Jaemin’s back to lift him more comfortably. Making sure that Jaemin’s shirt was still in place, Renjun began the arduous process of peeling the sweat-soaked hoodie off Jaemin’s limp body. It took far too long, and Renjun was a bit breathless once he’d finished, but he did it. 

And in the process, he’d discovered the reason Jaemin had been hiding his body from him. 

“Oh no,” Renjun nearly sobbed. All along Jaemin’s upper arms, barely hidden by the sleeves of his shirt, were red, deep cuts. Some looked so new they could’ve been done that morning, while others had long scarred over. Renjun pulled the sleeves of Jaemin’s hoodie inside out, heart dropping at the smeared red bloodstains. 

The door opened to a soft, “Hyung?” and Renjun nearly dropped the hoodie in his hands. He looked and saw Jisung standing there, hand over his stomach, and face dropped in shock. 

“Jisungie,” Renjun held his hand up, trying to keep Jisung from freaking out. Jisung stumbled backward, hand over his mouth. “Jisungie, calm down. Look at hyung, it’s okay.” 

“What do you mean, it’s okay? His arms! His hoodie has blood in it!” Jisung nearly shouted. 

“I know, just...calm down! You’re going to wake him up,” Renjun was hysteric himself, not yet ready to confront the fact he’d found out. Jaemin had worked so hard to keep it from happening. 

“Did you know?” Jisung asked. He seemed almost angry, softened only by the way he was still clutching his aching stomach. 

“No, I didn’t know. I just found out,” Renjun said, dragging his fingers over Jaemin’s hoodie. Jisung rolled his eyes, clearly disbelieving. “Jisung, I _didn’t._”

“I’m telling Taeyong-hyung,” Jisung said, turning and walking away. Renjun covered his eyes, willing himself to calm down. Jisung suddenly stopped, looking back at Renjun. “What do we do?” 

“I don’t know, Jisungie. We need to get him help,” Renjun said. They stared at each other, both knowing exactly what the other was thinking.

How were they supposed to keep going knowing that any second, they could lose two of their members irrevocably? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading this story so far. Four more chapters left to go before part one is over, I can hardly believe it. You all are amazing. 
> 
> Twitter: gypsyether  
Instagram: gypsyether
> 
> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


	9. PART I: Empath Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renjun should hate him. He should be angry and telling him that he’d failed him, the inevitability Jaemin had come to accept the first time their lips touched. The first time blood ran down his pale skin, and Jaemin had pushed Renjun’s wandering hands away, facing that disturbingly hurt look with a determination Jaemin couldn’t figure out the origin of. 
> 
> Jaemin wanted to ask God what was happening. He wanted to collapse onto his knees and close his eyes, searching for an answer to his confusing, blatantly erroneous emotions and thoughts. Jaemin tried to look at the situation as an outsider. Even though he could grasp at the fact he could fix it, the blackness consumed the images of a fixed relationship. He was left alone, scoffing, and feeling abandoned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Okay, I'm an idiot. Taeil was still at the hospital when all of this happened, so please don't ask me why my brain decided Taeil was with Taeyong when Jaemin woke up at the beginning. I edited this, I'm so sorry lol*
> 
> This is a pretty accurate account, on Jaemin's part in this story, of how my mind works when I forget to take my anti-depressants. I tried to keep it a bit "off" sounding, and a bit too big to believe, because that's what depression does to me personally. I know it's different for everyone, so to keep it realistic and non-trope sounding, I used real thoughts and experience. 
> 
> I can't tell you how much I enjoy reading your comments. I know a real publisher doesn't get comments one every chapter, but they are my life blood for this story. Thank you. 
> 
> Same warnings apply from the last chapter.
> 
> Also, idk if you've ever had norovirus and been dehydrated at the same time, but omfg. Misery. 
> 
> SONG ADDED FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2b1mFlfBa4bbW5peg0R4rq?si=qAqAOt3jRgCXetHaUe2JMA (GUIDANCE BY JACOB LEE)

Jaemin woke up to bandages wrapping his newer cuts, and Taeyong and Johnny sitting at his bedside. He was mortified, the sickness from being found out worse than that from his illness. 

Taeyong and Johnny had tried to calm him, telling him that it would be just fine. They’d get him help, and everything would be all better. 

Jaemin knew, deep in the back of his mind, that Renjun had been the one to find out. He could almost remember Renjun taking his sweatshirt off, a fuzzy and far away memory, but one that still existed regardless. He tried not to be angry. He tried to rationalize it, but the fear of what was waiting for him when his managers found out was too much. 

Renjun had, in Jaemin’s depressed, angry mind, ruined his life. Renjun had known that Jaemin didn’t want his shirts and hoodies touched. They had been off-limits for a month, so it made no sense why he thought it was okay to take Jaemin’s hoodie off. 

No matter how damaged and faulty his line of thinking, Jaemin couldn’t pull himself out of it. 

When Renjun came down with the slowly hopping stomach flu a few hours later, Jaemin found it hard to be anywhere near him. Jisung, despite still feeling awful, was the one to hold Renjun as he sobbed on the bathroom floor. 

“Jae-_min,_” Renjun would deliriously cry, out of it from his fever. Jisung would glare, enraged as Jaemin turned and walked away. 

Mark, as always, was the one forced to confront Jaemin. Renjun had been one of the hardest hit, and everyone knew it was because of how Renjun had been virtually glued to Jaemin’s side the whole night. To hear him whining and crying out on the bathroom floor made everyone upset, and everyone was fed up. Being the impromptu leader of Dream in the past, it was up to Mark to sort it out. 

“Jaemin, are you feeling better?” Mark asked, unable to hide the bite in his words. Renjun had finally nodded off, sweaty and still vomit smelling in Jeno’s arms. Even asleep, they had yet to move him from the bathroom, each attempt ending the same way. 

“Mn,” Was all Jaemin said, looking at the wall instead of his bandmate. 

“Good, because we need to talk,” Mark shut the door, realizing then that Jisung was up on the top bunk, blinking owlishly at him. “Jisungie, can you go lay with Renjun-hyung? I’m sure he could use some cuddles, and you’re one of the few who’s already had it.” Jisung nodded and hopped down, slinking out of the room. 

“I know, I have a damn therapist appointment on Saturday,” Jaemin ground out, rubbing at his hidden arms. 

“Nope, try again,” Mark said, standing cross-armed next to Jaemin’s bed. When Jaemin remained quiet, Mark settled himself down on Jaemin’s bed. “Why in God’s name are you letting Renjun lay in the bathroom screaming for you? You, of all people, I would’ve thought would be there for him.” 

Jaemin looked at him with an uncontainable fire in his eyes. Mark waited, but Jaemin still didn’t say anything. 

“Renjun doesn’t ask for shit from any of us. Yeah, he gets upset. He cries. He throws things and screams, but guess what? He doesn’t ask any of us to sit through it. He tells us to get the Hell away from him, but we all stay because we love him. So what the Hell is this?” Mark asked, throwing his hands up in disbelief. Jaemin’s flinching did nothing to quell his simmering anger. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Jaemin asked, finally deciding to speak. “If there’s anyone in this entire complex that knows what Renjun goes through, it’s me.”

Mark took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He wasn’t acting like much of a leader. “Then why are you leaving him alone when he needs you?” Mark asked. “I’ve never heard him ask for comfort in my life, and the one time he does, you’re what? Pissed at him? For making sure you didn’t overheat?” 

Jaemin sat up and yelled, “I told him not to touch my shirt! It’s his fault!” 

“He cares about you!” Mark yelled back. He pressed his fingers into his eyes. “Jaemin, we all know. We all see the way you act around each other. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, and why you feel like you need to hide from us, but you don’t.”

“He’s the one that didn’t want to tell anyone,” Jaemin said, scoffing.

“After this, can you see why?” Mark felt the way the words hit Jaemin, his whole body leaning forward with the impact. “I know this shit is hard. Trust me, I know. We’re all in this together, and Chenle needs us to be a team. We can’t be breaking apart like this now.” 

“So what? We all pretend everything’s fucking fantastic? That all of us go to sleep peacefully and not wondering what God awful thing we’ll wake up to next?” Jaemin asked, his anger slowly melting to an all-consuming sadness, the ice melting and trickling down as tears. “I don’t want to wake up because I don’t know what I’ll wake up to.” 

Mark pulled Jaemin close, letting the boy cry into his shoulder. Jaemin was so young. Only a year older than Chenle and Jisung, and still trying so hard to be a dependable hyung. Mark realized with a jolt that Jaemin was supposed to be one of their babies, one of the ones they took extra care of. He was part of the youngest three, a typical maknae liner that acted too old for his age. 

“God, Jaemin, you have so many people who love you. You don’t have to do this to yourself. You can come to me anytime, all day long, and I will be there for you,” Mark said, squeezing Jaemin to him. 

“I need to be strong, hyung, but I can’t. I’m so worthless at this. Chenle needs me, and Jisungie needs me, and Renjun, and--I just don’t know what to do anymore,” Jaemin sobbed, sniffling wetly on Mark’s shoulder. He didn’t flinch. A little mess was nothing compared to the war zone that had become Jaemin’s mind. 

“When this becomes too much, being the hyung you want to be, you come to me. You go to anyone in the dorm. All of us, listen to me, Jaemin, all of us, will be there for you. You are never alone. You never have to hold something by yourself. God gave us twenty-one people to hold it together. Twenty-one!” 

“I feel like I failed them,” Jaemin whispered. Mark sighed and pressed a kiss to Jaemin’s hair.

“I go to our hyungs a lot. Sometimes I can’t breathe. I feel like everything is fake. Like I’m watching myself instead of living. I can’t handle it sometimes. No one expects you to be able to,” Mark said. “You and Jisung need to come to us. We’re here for you. Always.” 

Jaemin was dismally quiet. He’d stopped crying, his face blank and gaze locked on the door. Mark nearly asked if he was okay before Jaemin whispered, “Will they make me take pills?” He sounded so small, like a lost child in a big, crowded mall. 

Mark sighed and nodded. “They may. Taeyong-hyung takes it. Yuta-hyung, too. I do. You’re not alone, Jaemin. I need you to be safe. I need to know that you’ll be here when I wake up in the morning, because this team is not complete without you,” Mark tried to hold his tears back, but he choked up halfway through. Jaemin looked up sadly at him.

“I’m not suicidal,” Jaemin said as if it were a promise. Mark cupped Jaemin’s cheek, thumb rubbing over the sticky skin. 

“I know, Minnie. I know,” Mark said it in a way that sounded a bit patronizing. As if he didn’t really know at all. 

After a small stretch of silence, Jaemin said, “Can you stay?” 

“Always,” Mark nodded, pulling Jaemin back into his arms. With Jaemin’s head pillowed on his shoulder, Mark had to maneuver a bit to shoot off a text to Donghyuck. 

_Mark Lee: I talked to Jaemin. He’s in really bad shape. He needs me here. Can you check on Renjun and Jisung?_

_Lee Donghyuck: Of course. _

_Mark Lee: I think we were really close to losing him, hyuck._

_Lee Donghyuck: well, we didn’t, so don’t say that. jisung and jun are asleep. _

Mark put his phone down a bit too harshly, Jaemin jolting in surprise. “Sorry, try to sleep.”

“I don’t want to,” Jaemin said. Mark combed his fingers through Jaemin’s hair and held his hand.

“Hyung will stay right here until you wake up,” Mark promised. Unable to keep himself awake, Jaemin went limp, breathing deep and even. 

Mark allowed the dam to break. Jaemin not only sounded different, but he felt different. His arms and legs were so much weaker, almost brittle in comparison to his once muscular frame. His face was oily and beginning to break out, and his eyes...Mark sucked in a painful breath. They were so sunken and dark. Yellow teeth, dull eyes. 

Mark cautiously rubbed Jaemin’s stomach, a lump forming when he felt Jaemin’s soft abdomen. He’d lost his muscle. All of it. How had they not noticed?

He wasn’t dumb enough to believe Jaemin and Renjun hadn’t done anything together. Jaemin wouldn’t have been so hysterical about Renjun removing his shirt had it not been something he felt needed to be pressed to death. As if at one point, Renjun had been allowed. Mark wondered if Renjun had noticed the way Jaemin’s body had wasted away. 

Or, perhaps, Jaemin had really been that insistent on no one finding out. He was the group’s actor, his near makeshift training enough to get him a part in a web series. Could he have utilized his skills to hide his body’s changes? His mental changes? 

Mark decided there was no point in thinking about it too hard. Renjun was near delirious, and Jaemin needed to sleep. There would be no interrogations for the time being. 

An hour and twenty-two chapters of a WebToon later, Donghyuck was pushing the door open. He looked distraught and scared, and Mark was quick to put his phone down. 

“What?” Mark asked, gently guiding Jaemin down onto the bed. He wouldn’t leave, but he needed to sit up. It made him feel disgustingly vulnerable to be lying down with Donghyuck looking so shaky in the doorway.

“Renjun. He’s--they think he’s dehydrated,” Donghyuck said, hitching in a breath as he wiped underneath his eye. Mark motioned him forward, and Donghyuck all but ran, collapsing into Mark’s arms. “He was crying, right? But there were no _tears_, hyung. He was just making the sounds.” 

Life was just getting better and better. He’d really have to send a fruit basket to whatever deity watched over them. “Is he awake?” Mark asked. 

“Yeah. The hyungs are calling our manager,” Donghyuck said. “I couldn’t stay. I don’t know why. It reminded me of--” Donghyuck didn’t finish, but Mark got the idea. The sound of footsteps outside the door caught both of their attention, and reluctantly Donghyuck stood and faced the door, hands clasped in front of him. 

Johnny walked in with Renjun in his arms, awake but silent. “He really wants Jaemin.” Johnny said it as if it were an apology. Mark looked down at Jaemin’s sleeping face, knowing that there were two possible outcomes to laying Renjun down in the bed with them. Either Jaemin was going to blow his top, or he would be okay with it. 

Renjun jolted in Johnny’s hold, and Johnny instinctively turned to run out the door. When nothing happened, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. 

“Lay him here,” Mark said, jumping over Jaemin to lay on the opposite side of him. They would need to be able to quickly move Renjun if need be, and pressed against the wall on a bunk bed didn’t sound like the best option. Johnny sighed gratefully and laid Renjun down. “What did our manager say?” Mark asked when Renjun began to relax. 

“Taeyong’s calling now,” Johnny said, looking out the door as if expecting someone to come in. “He should be here in a minute.” 

A few close calls with Renjun’s suspicious body jolts later, and Taeyong was walking in with his phone pressed to his ear. “Yeah, I can do that,” He said to the person on the phone, kneeling down until he was eye level with the eldest in Dream. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Taeyong asked. Renjun blinked slowly, mouth moving but no actual words coming out. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“Mn,” Renjun responded. Everyone waited to see if he would say anything further, and after a tense moment, he said, “Bed.” 

“Yeah. Do you know whose bed?” Taeyong asked, thumbnail between his teeth. Renjun looked around, eyes catching on Jaemin sleeping next to him.

“Jaemin,” Renjun said. Taeyong nodded happily, listening to the next prompt from the person on the phone. 

“Can you tell me your name?” Taeyong tried to smile. Mark felt a bit like he was watching his hyung talk to a young child. Renjun looked at each person in the room before turning back to Taeyong, pointing at himself.

“Mine?” Renjun whispered. Taeyong clenched his lips and nodded, reaching out a hand to card through Renjun’s sweaty hair. 

“Yeah, baby. Yours. What’s your name?” Taeyong asked. 

“Huang Renjun. Hwang Injun,” Renjun said, and the tension let up a little. Taeyong tried to continue questioning him, but Renjun fell asleep before he had a chance to finish. Taeyong hung up the phone with a heavy sigh, his hand hitting his knee hard enough for the crack to be clearly heard. 

“That was our manager. They’re finally calling the doctor,” Taeyong said. “We need to take him now. I shouldn’t have called.” 

“Don’t say that,” Mark said, shaking his head. “You did what you thought was right. He’ll be okay, hyung.”

“He could hardly remember his name. We should be in the car,” Taeyong said, lifting himself up and throwing himself out of the room. Johnny and Donghyuck looked longingly back at Renjun before turning and leaving, intending to find their leader before he spiraled down any more. 

Mark nearly screamed. They couldn’t win.

* * *

Jaemin awoke to Renjun and Mark on either side of him. 

Jaemin shifted, lifting his hand to brush a stray piece of hair off Renjun’s forehead. It was wet and stuck together, warmed from the heat radiating off Renjun’s body. He had a bad fever, one could tell just from being near his shaking body. Jaemin, despite his anger still simmering low, wanted nothing more than to take all that pain from the smaller body. 

“He was in really, really bad shape,” Mark said once he realized Jaemin was awake. “They’re talking about taking him to the hospital.” 

“That bad?” Jaemin sighed, shaking his head. 

“Dehydrated. They noticed when he stopped producing tears, but he was still clearly crying,” Mark felt a bit guilty saying so, but it was the truth. According to Jeno, Renjun had begun to whine about his eyes hurting, and it still took until he was dry sobbing before someone noticed. Jisung and Jeno had managed to coax a bottle of water down, but Renjun was still off. 

“Is he any better?” Jaemin asked, noticing all the patterns pressed into Renjun’s face. 

“I don’t know,” Mark admitted. “I guess they’re going to call our physician and see what they say.” Jaemin nodded, pressing a kiss to Renjun’s forehead. 

Taeyong crashed into the room a few minutes later, lifting Renjun up and telling Jaemin if he wanted to go to get up now. Jaemin looked at Mark with wide eyes, the elder shooing up away. Jaemin shot up and threw a hoodie on over his clothes, not bothering to do anything more. A pair of shoes later and they were off, back to the hospital they just couldn’t seem to stay away from. 

Their doctor had panicked over Renjun’s confusion and lack of tear production, telling them they needed to go without hesitation. Jaemin and Taeyong were the only ones there, other than Taeil, who had yet to actually leave, still up in the Oncology ward. The first thing Renjun asked was if they could see Chenle, but the nurse had gently told him that he was far too ill to be in the oncology ward. 

Renjun was lying against Jaemin, blinking slowly as they hooked him up to an IV. Jaemin had intertwined their fingers, resting their joined hands on his thigh. Renjun hated needles, just like Chenle. It was a sad reality when the two of them were the ones forced to confront it. 

“Why do I feel so bad, Nana?” Renjun asked, so quiet, it was hard to hear. 

“It has something to do with the amount of the virus you’re exposed to,” Taeyong said, looking at both of them with a smirk. Renjun just whined and buried his head in Jaemin’s neck. 

A nurse returned to check Renjun’s vital signs, and happily let them all know that he was doing well. She handed over a prescription to Taeyong for a medicine to calm the vomiting. With a tap on the head, she returned to hand a tv remote to Jaemin.

“Just in case, I know it gets a bit boring,” She said, exiting the room. Jaemin smiled and put the remote to the side. Renjun wasn’t a huge fan of background noise when he was sick. 

“Do you hate me?” Renjun asked suddenly. Jaemin wished that Taeyong wasn’t in the room, but he was over letting Renjun believe he wasn’t serious about them. His own problems be damned, he lifted Renjun’s face and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“I could never hate you,” Jaemin said, feeling Renjun’s forehead for any lingering remains of fever. The medicine they gave him was supposed to kick in quick, but he still felt warm. 

“Even though I took your hoodie off?” Renjun asked, motioning for Jaemin to pull the heated blanket up a bit higher. Jaemin complied, tucking it under Renjun’s body until the smaller sighed in content. 

“Yeah. You were just trying to help me,” Jaemin said. He still felt angry deep down. He still blamed Renjun, no matter how much his heart screamed at him to stop. Jaemin would’ve done the same thing for Renjun, and God help him if he’d found out Renjun was self-harming. 

“I love you,” Renjun whispered, coherent enough to know how rare those words had become. 

“I love you, too. So much. I’m sorry,” Jaemin said, and he meant it. Renjun didn’t deserve to have Jaemin’s depression and anger thrown at him for just trying to be a good person. A good boyfriend. Jaemin’s heart ached. He hadn’t been much of a boyfriend at all. 

“Okay,” Was the response Renjun gave, and it was well deserved. “But I know you’re hurting. You have to let me in.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to be burdened with my stuff on top of your own,” Jaemin said. Renjun whined a bit as he shifted, hand shooting to his stomach. “Gentle, the medicine hasn’t kicked in yet.” 

“My stuff is your stuff,” Renjun said once the nausea went down. “When I think of dating someone, I think of someone who I can be there for when they need me. Who can be there for me when I need them. Reciprocation both ways.” Renjun took a deep breath. Jaemin, despite his apprehension, pulled his hand up and under Renjun’s shirt to rub his aching stomach. 

“I’ll always be there for you. I was so wrong to leave you like this, Injun,” Jaemin lamented. Renjun just watched Jaemin’s hand. 

“I want to be there for you,” Renjun said. “You’re always there for me.” 

Taeyong, who’d been quietly sitting in a chair, lifted himself up. He put a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder, a massive smile on his face. “You’re such a good kid, Jaemin. You’ve got a really, really good catch. Don’t let him go.” With that, Taeyong left with the promise of returning once he’d checked up on Taeil. 

“The thought of fish makes me so sick,” Renjun said, and Jaemin couldn’t help but laugh. Renjun pulled Jaemin’s fingers into both of his hands, lithe fingers rubbing and sliding over Jaemin’s longer ones. It was quiet, more serene than it had been between the two of them in God knew how many hours. How many minutes. Each one tacking on the discomfort and the internalized discontent until it was bound to erupt.

Had they stopped it? The imminent explosion? Or had Jaemin’s aversion, Jaemin’s selfish avoidance of Renjun after he’d found his most profound, most painful secret, already caused it to happen? Was this simply the aftermath?

It was too calm. As if a storm was brewing, but it wasn’t the kind that Jaemin necessarily feared. It was more like an exciting rumble of thunder with a flash of lightning, your whole body electrified as the wind began to pick up, and the rain spit into your face. He wasn’t _enjoying_ this, so why did he feel so calm? So…, apathetic? No, that couldn’t be the right word. He did feel something, it just didn’t fit the situation.

Renjun should hate him. He should be angry and telling him that he’d failed him, the inevitability Jaemin had come to accept the first time their lips touched. The first time blood ran down his pale skin, and Jaemin had pushed Renjun’s wandering hands away, facing that disturbingly hurt look with a determination Jaemin couldn’t figure out the origin of. 

Jaemin wanted to ask God what was happening. He wanted to collapse onto his knees and close his eyes, searching for an answer to his confusing, blatantly erroneous emotions and thoughts. Jaemin tried to look at the situation as an outsider. Even though he could grasp at the fact he could fix it, the blackness consumed the images of a fixed relationship. He was left alone, scoffing, and feeling abandoned. 

He was beginning to question his upbringing. His faith was wavering dangerously, like a top spinning in slow motion on the edge of the Grand Canyon. 

Jaemin looked up to see a doctor walk by their designated space. His mind drifted to Chenle, six floors up, and hooked up to so many machines Jaemin would be hopeless to find his friend’s body beneath them. The ventilator breathing for him, the lines acting as his kidneys. Jaemin had finally begun to feel completely illness free, and he dared to complain about anything. 

Jaemin clenched his teeth and snapped his fingers, trying to dispel some of the overwhelming anger. Renjun looked up wide-eyed at him, worried and so caring, and it somehow made Jaemin even more upset with himself. 

“Nana, you’re making this a bigger thing than it is,” Renjun mumbled. “I understand. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? You were scared.”

Beyond scared, Jaemin thought bitterly. He’d felt so trapped. Like he’d been trampled into the ground by horses hooves with no hope of lifting himself back up. Was he overreacting? It took one flash of Renjun screaming his name on the bathroom floor for Jaemin to realize that no, he was beating himself up just enough. 

Both of them jumped a little when Jaemin’s phone started to ring. Jaemin reached over and lifted it off the side table, flipping it right side up so he could see the caller ID. “It’s Jisungie,” Jaemin said, putting the phone on speaker. He had some hope that the youngest wouldn’t chew him out over the phone. “Hello?”

“Hyung?” Jisung’s voice was so quiet. Not calling to yell at him, then. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Jaemin said.

Jisung sighed, “When are you coming home? I want to see Renjun-hyung.” Jaemin caught Renjun’s sad smile. 

“He’s doing a lot better. We’re just waiting until the doctor decides he’s well enough to leave,” Jaemin said. Jisung didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Is he there?” Jisung asked. Renjun shifted up a bit, flinching with the movement. 

“Hey, Sungie,” Renjun whispered.

“Hyung! I’m so glad you’re awake. You looked so sick when you left,” Jisung’s voice broke, his nose wet and stuffed as he sniffled. He had been crying for a while. 

“Baby, is anyone with you?” Jaemin asked. 

“I’m in our room. Please let me talk to Renjun-hyung,” Jisung begged, and Jaemin was quick to put the phone back down to Renjun’s level. 

“Jisungie, hyung is okay. I already feel so much better,” Renjun said. He was still shaking, but his fever had for sure gone down quite a bit. 

“I was so scared,” Jisung sobbed violently. Jaemin took Renjun’s phone and picked it up, texting their group chat to beg someone to go find Jisung. “You looked so sick. You were all shaky and so limp, I-” Jisung broke off with a painful cry. 

“Jisungie, I’m here. I’m okay,” Renjun tried to soothe. “Can you do something for hyung?”

“Yeah,” Jisung said. 

“I want you to go find one of your hyungs that are still there, okay? Go find them and let them help you. I will be there soon, but you need someone with you right now,” Renjun said. They could hear Jisung lift himself out of bed and open the door, several voices all converging in the background.

Donghyuck was the first clear voice they heard, “Can hyung have the phone, baby?” 

“No, I need to hear his voice,” Jisung sobbed, but his voice had already gotten farther away.

“I know, I know. He’ll be here soon. Let’s go sit on the couch,” Donghyuck said. “Hey, I’ve got him. Rest well, Junnie. We’ll see you when you get back.”

“Tell him I love him,” Renjun said.

“I will,” Donghyuck said, hanging up the phone. 

“When did life get so fucking messed up?” Renjun sighed, nearly crushing Jaemin’s shirt in his fist. 

Jaemin decided it would be better not to answer. 

Jisung confronted Jaemin the instant he’d walked through the door, Renjun leaning tiredly against him. “I think I’ll take it from here, hyung.” Jisung bit. It was the first time Jaemin had ever heard that tone directed toward him. 

Jisung gazed from Jaemin to Renjun, lip wobbling, before pulling the smaller out of Jaemin’s grip and taking him to tuck him into bed. Jaemin’s throat burned as he swallowed. 

“Fuck,” Jaemin whined, smacking his leg with a clenched fist. He’d messed up so bad. Mark was right, Chenle needed them to be a team, and he’d just effectively ripped it apart. Jisung had never been so horrifyingly angry, especially not at him, and Renjun hadn’t even protested as they walked away. 

Chenle, their little fighter, was going to come home to the mess Jaemin made. He didn’t deserve that.

Jaemin wanted to throw something. Hear glass smash, feel the wall bend beneath his fist, beating at it until his knuckles split, and he had a different pain to focus on. 

Hadn’t that been why he started in the first place? To have a different pain to focus on? The internet had told him--promised him--that it would make it better. Those websites looked into his soul and called him forward, showing him a release meant to cure all of his emotional aches. 

It hadn’t worked, but now he was reliant on it. He, somewhere in his mind, was convinced the distraction was the only reason he could keep going. 

The call of the void and Jaemin had fallen right in.

“Let’s go,” A voice said, and Jaemin looked up to see Ten standing over him. It was a surprise; he hadn’t seen the WayV member in weeks. 

The two walked outside, allowing the door to swing closed. Ten walked in front of him, periodically looking back to make sure Jaemin was still following. They ended up in front of WayV’s dorm, and Ten guided him inside and into the empty living room.

“Let’s draw together,” Ten said, picking up a sketchbook and some pencils from the table. He handed them all to Jaemin, then settled down beside him with his iPad, Procreate already up. 

“Why?” Jaemin asked. He’d been expecting another lecture. Another spewed off list of reasons he’d managed to fuck everything up. Ten just smiled and opened the sketchbook to the first page. It was new, with nothing in it. 

“Because it’s fun. A good outlet. I bought that for you,” Ten said, already beginning the process of laying out guidelines on his tablet. “I thought we could draw how we are feeling. Or maybe how we want to feel. You don’t have to have a vision before you start, you could just let your unconscious mind do all the work.” Ten hadn’t looked up from his paper. 

Jaemin looked down at the sketchbook with apprehension. He’d never drawn before. Not seriously, anyway; that was more Renjun’s thing. He sighed, thinking about his boyfriend with an awful throb in his heart. Renjun still -- despite how awful Jaemin treated him -- loved him. It was bizarre, and it pulled so much emotion from deep inside that he felt that urge again.

When you cut, your wounds bleed out the pain. You can literally see your pain dripping away from you, the website had said. Jaemin shivered, realizing the dark, menacing voice behind it. The lure of a siren. 

He put his pencil to paper and drew until he felt like he could breathe again. Ten had yet to look up, perhaps not wanting to intrude. Jaemin watched as his figure turned to darkness. It was a blackness so all-consuming floating around them until the character was nothing more than a pair of white eyes. 

Jaemin stopped and put the pencil down, taking a look at his own creation. So dark, so empty, so lost. 

“You can come back anytime, but I’d like to do this with you regularly,” Ten said, snapping his Apple Pencil back in place. Jaemin looked up from his creation, a bit embarrassed. 

“Okay,” Jaemin said. He ran a finger over where the body of the figure should have been, the mouth, nose, and ears. If this was him, what was he to do? He looked beyond repair. How do you pull a substance out of a black hole?

Ten shifted, pointing to something on his drawing, “You left the eyes. The window to our souls. You’re still here, Minnie. I can see you.” 

Jaemin nodded, not bothering to wipe at his burning eyes. He, in the past 24 hours, felt more alive than he had in a month. Maybe since Chenle’s diagnosis. “I don’t blame him.” Jaemin said, looking so deep into Ten’s eyes. 

“I know,” Ten nodded, bringing their foreheads together. “This is all f-ed up. This isn’t how it should be for you. For any of you. Too young, you’re all way too young.” Ten said. Jaemin sighed painfully, his back beginning to ache with his tension. 

“Renjun, too. I don’t blame him. God, I messed up so bad, how do I fix this?” Jaemin cried, burying his face in Ten’s shirt. 

“Go to your appointments, do what they tell you to do to get better. Be there for him. Don’t shut him out, because if you do, he’ll stop trying to get back in one day,” Ten whispered, patting Jaemin’s back lightly. 

“How do I love him properly when I can’t love me?” Jaemin asked. 

Ten hummed, “Well, I guess the first step is to work on your self-perception. What makes you lack in your eyes? Figure that out, and then from there, we work forward. You don’t have to worry about Renjun loving an imaginary you. He’s seen you through it all, and he’s still upstairs waiting for you to come back to him.” 

“I just look at Jisung and Chenle, and it’s like they’re perfect. Jisung’s always got it together. Chenle never has to wonder if Jisung’s going to just tap out one day,” Jaemin admitted bitterly. A whole extra year of experience meant nothing. Jisung, their youngest member, was somehow more mature than Jaemin. 

“Oh, Jaemin. They fight all the time. You can hear them screaming at each other all the way down here, and I’m amazed considering how quiet Chenle’s been lately,” Ten said with a laugh, and Jaemin managed to get a bit of mirth out of it. “Jisung and Chenle had also been together before this all started. You and Renjun, I assume, were formed out of this?”

“Yeah. I liked him before, but I didn’t have the courage. It used to be so easy to be Renjun’s support system. The easiest thing in the world,” Jaemin wiped at his mouth, lip finding its way between slowly yellowing teeth. 

“The foundation needs walls and a roof. You can’t hold him up forever without crumbling yourself,” Ten said. “If you leave the inside open, what happens when it rains? Or snows?”

“I get it, I just-” Jaemin began. “I feel like I should be able to handle it on my own.”

“Do you expect him to handle it on his own?” Ten asked with a raised brow.

“Of course not,” Jaemin said with no hesitation.

“Then why do you need to?” 

Ten left him with that. Even after all of the reassurance, all of the help, Jaemin’s mind was still bombarded with one thought.

What was done was done. 

Why waste his breath and effort on something pointless? He couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t fix anything. The damage was done. 

Once again, Jaemin found himself called into the void of numb apathy. 

He let himself fall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> I wrote the final chapter for this story in advance because the middle keeps running around and mocking me. I've got subplots galore and suddenly Jaemin has a bigger part than I intended and...oh look, Renjun and Jisung have their own arc and...help. This story is going to last forever the way I'm going. 
> 
> The idea for Jaemin to question his faith in God came from the song Guidance by Jacob Lee. He is an amazing artist, and I sincerely hope you take the time to listen to the song. I can't see on the Spotify playlist the amount of views each song has, but seriously. Please take some time and support him.
> 
> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


	10. PART I: Empath Pt. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why Jaemin?" Donghyuck begged for an answer that no one could give. "He's always so fucking happy. So flamboyant and -- I don't know, so Jaemin! Of all of the people I thought would get to this point, he just wasn't one." Donghyuck shook his head. 
> 
> "Sometimes it's the happiest people that go through the most," Mark said, scratching comfortingly on the hair on Donghyuck's nape. 
> 
> "I love him, and I want him here. I want him here every day," Donghyuck nodded, lips pressed thin. "I want him, however he is. If he's pissed off, or sad, or annoying the shit out of me. I don't care if he gets in my face or sleeps in my bed or eats all my damn food. I just want him here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the hardest hitting chapter of ALL of the previous ones. Please keep this in mind before reading.
> 
> WARNINGS; blood, accidental near suicide (FAILED). 
> 
> All other warnings apply from chapter 8.

They found Jaemin on his side, staring at the white, chipped paint on the bottom of the bathroom wall the next day. 

Renjun was frozen in place, hands out and legs wobbling. He looked at Jaemin, and then out to the hallway, frantic and confused. He was alone, all of the other members in the kitchen or their own rooms. There was a spell over him, freezing his mind and making him incapable of making a decision. 

Jaemin was lying on the floor, eyes wide open and unblinking, and in a puddle under his sleeve, was blood. 

"Jaemin?" Renjun snapped out of his stupor like an ice sculpture shatters as it crashes to the floor. He slammed himself to his knees, shaking hands touching every part of Jaemin's body, avoiding the injured arm as if touching it was enough for Renjun to end up on the ground himself, slowly bleeding out with no one left to find him. "Jaemin? Jaemin, wake up!" Renjun said, pulling Jaemin's face to look up at him. 

Jaemin blinked, but it was slow. 

"Jaemin! Stay awake, don't fall asleep!" Renjun shouted, slapping Jaemin's face lightly. "Help! Someone, help me!" He screamed louder, sobbing as he pressed a bath towel to Jaemin's injured arm. 

Something crashed to the ground, and suddenly feet were pounding their way toward him. 

"Call 119! He needs help, hurry, please!" Renjun sobbed as Jeno rounded the corner. It was Donghyuck who had the phone pressed to his ear as he shoved his way in, collapsing next to Jaemin's still body. He was breathing, but with effort and a lot of noise. His body was lax and pliant, eyes drifting closed and back open periodically. 

"What's going on?" Jisung's tiny voice asked from outside the bathroom. Jeno tried to block him from seeing, but Jisung put up quite the fight. "What's happening? Jaemin! Jaemin-hyung!" Jisung screamed as Jeno lifted him up, dragging him away. He kicked and pushed and begged, but Jeno didn't let go, not even when they were too far from the bathroom to hear. 

"He's blinking, but I can't tell if he's conscious. He hasn't responded to anything we've said or done," Donghyuck said to the person on the phone. He was instructed to pinch somewhere on Jaemin's back, and without a hint of hesitation, Donghyuck complied. Jaemin gave a small, almost invisible flinch, eyes dropping to the side to look for who had hurt him. 

"He responded," Renjun sighed out, pressing even harder down on the cuts on Jaemin's arm. 

At that moment, Jaemin's eyes blinked once more before closing, an exhale sounding forced as his chest stilled. "Shit!" Donghyuck cried out, dropping his phone and lifting the limp body into his arms. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him out of the dorm and into the hallway, pounding down the stairs until he met up with a paramedic at the front entrance. 

The paramedic laid Jaemin on a stretcher, instantly starting chest compressions. He called for help, and suddenly Jaemin's prone body was surrounded by medics. There was a loud shout of "all clear!" before Jaemin was shocked once, twice, his body arching slightly off the stretcher with each call. 

It hit Donghyuck quite suddenly that they were doing this because Jaemin's heart had stopped. Not only had he stopped breathing, but his heart also stopped. He'd stopped living. He was _dead. _

Renjun's bloody hands found their way into Donghyuck's somewhere around them shoving Jaemin into the back of the ambulance and it finally leaving, a shout back that they were free to follow behind. 

Not dead then. They wouldn't have bothered if he was. 

Right?

_Right?_

"What the fuck is going on?" Johnny shouted as he nearly stumbled down the stairs, only dressed in his pajamas and a pair of unmatching sneakers. 

"Jaemin tried to kill himself," Donghyuck said, monotone and quiet, shocking Johnny silent. 

"Is he-" He began. 

"No," Donghyuck's lip wobbled, and he crumbled to his knees. Jaemin had died in his arms, even if he had been brought back. Even if his heart was beating and he was breathing again, there was no denying the reality that for a whole ten to twenty seconds, Jaemin had not been with them anymore.

They could hear 127 and WayV start to filter out, some of them going up to the dorm while the other half came down to the lobby. Taeyong, Sicheng, and Mark were the first to arrive, and Renjun flung himself into the arms of his elder brother. 

_"I can't breathe,"_ Renjun cried out, squeezing Sicheng so hard the elder grit his teeth. 

"Renjun-ah, feel my heartbeat, yeah?" Sicheng said, moving one of Renjun's hands to his chest. There was a bloody handprint stained into the fabric of Sicheng's nightclothes, the smell nauseating and panic-inducing in itself.

Renjun was gasping and wheezing as he tried to get a full breath in. Donghyuck tried not to cry, tried to get his hands to calm, and his heartbeat to slow so he could help his best friend, but it didn't work. 

The noise began to settle, and it became evident that whoever had been tasked with settling Jisung was doing a piss poor job. Without adding unnecessary blame, Jisung was very clearly too upset to be consoled. 

"Get off me!" Jisung was yelling, so loud it echoed through the lobby. "Jaemin! Jaemin! _Hyung!_" Jisung sobbed, so violent that he went silent. Donghyuck was shaking as he threw his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the sound. The memory. Everything. 

"Why are you doing this?" Jisung screamed again. "Stop! _Stop!_"

"Quit touching him! You're freaking him out more!" That was Jungwoo's voice, so deep and angry. A complete 180 to the man's naturally subdued and gentle tone. Donghyuck pressed hard against his ears; they began to hurt, but he could still hear them. He didn't want to hear them.

Mark and Johnny collapsed next to him, and Donghyuck couldn't hold back anymore. His face scrunched up as he choked over the balloon in his chest, and Johnny was instantly pulling him into his arms. 

Renjun wasn't faring much better, although his distress had become so overwhelming he'd been muted. The only sound escaping the smaller's mouth was a struggling exhale every few seconds. "I should've helped him. Why didn't I stay with him? Gege, why didn't I stay?" Renjun sobbed into Sicheng's shoulder.

"It's not your fault," Sicheng said. "It's not. You did everything you could do."

"He knows I love him. _He knows,_" Renjun's breath hitched, shaking knuckles coming to cover his mouth. 

"He does. He's sick, Renjun-ah. Just like Chenle is sick. They're going to get him help, and then he'll start getting better," Sicheng soothed. He pulled Renjun's bloody hand away from his mouth, holding it tightly. 

"Why is this happening?" Renjun cried. Sicheng looked up as Kun ran to them, worried frown set. He pulled Renjun's face from Sicheng's shoulder and looked into those defeated eyes, fingers gently rubbing at the blood on Renjun's lip. 

"Taeyong-hyung called me. Jaemin's going to be alright. They got his heart beating again, and he's going to go in for surgery now," Kun whispered, brushing away all the tears falling from Renjun's closed eyes. It had stopped beating again? 

"Chenle," Donghyuck whispered from the floor. Everyone turned to him to hear what he had to say. "Chenle doesn't know. He thinks we all have a stupid fucking stomach bug. Jaemin just died, and he doesn't know. He won't know for weeks." Donghyuck's tears had stopped, a dark, haunted look settling in his eyes. 

Kun stepped forward and leaned down in front of Donghyuck. He held one of Donghyuck's limp hands and said, "Jaemin is still alive, Hyuck. He is. Taeyong is going to tell Chenle when he's off his ventilator, alright?" 

"We won't even be there for him," Donghyuck cried, smacking his palm onto the ground. "This is going to destroy him. I mean, Jaemin died. Jaemin died in my fucking arms, hyung. His heart stopped beating!" Donghyuck was hysteric as he looked between Johnny, Mark, and Kun. 

"Hyuck, breathe. Look at hyung, breathe with me," Johnny said, over-dramatically inhaling and exhaling for Donghyuck to follow. Renjun was sobbing hysterically, loud and uncontainable at the words that slipped, settled heavily in the air. 

"Why Jaemin?" Donghyuck begged for an answer that no one could give. "He's always so fucking happy. So flamboyant and -- I don't know, so Jaemin! Of all of the people I thought would get to this point, he just wasn't one." Donghyuck shook his head. 

"Sometimes it's the happiest people that go through the most," Mark said, scratching comfortingly on the hair on Donghyuck's nape. 

"I love him, and I want him here. I want him here every day," Donghyuck nodded, lips pressed thin. "I want him, however he is. If he's pissed off, or sad, or annoying the shit out of me. I don't care if he gets in my face or sleeps in my bed or eats all my damn food. I just want him here."

"Me too, Hyuck," Mark choked, looking up with wide eyes at Johnny and Kun. He'd been trying so hard not to cry, but he couldn't hold back anymore. 

"You're okay, let it out," Kun whispered, rubbing Mark's arm. 

As the first tears trickled down Mark's cheeks, it became oppressively silent. Renjun had begun to cry so hard he was simply struggling to breathe, his mouth open but no sound escaping until Sicheng hit at his back like one might do for a toddler. He struggled through a sobbing exhale before managing to calm down. 

Donghyuck was listening to the happenings of the next few floors. Jisung was quiet, but it didn't sound like it was a good thing. People were still yelling, different languages existing together like acrylic dumped into water. All there and clear in individuality, loud and abrasive and terrified. 

"Well, if you would just stop touching him!"

"He would've run off!"

"So what? He's not 5. In any other country, he'd nearly be an adult!"

"Well, we don't _live_ in any other country!"

They all flinched as Yuta spoke up, saying, "Stop screaming at each other. Do you think this is helping? Is this what we do whenever Chenle goes to the hospital? No. We don't trap Jisung in a corner, blocking him and telling him he's too young, or whatever excuse you have for not letting him go and say goodbye before Jaemin was taken away for what could be weeks.

"Sometimes, we need to realize that protecting our youngest doesn't mean shielding him. I think he's seen and done enough he deserves a little more credit. Jisung has proven to us over and over again that he is capable in an emergency. He probably wouldn't have even freaked out had you all not forced your own panic onto him! Caging him in and whispering that it'll be fine isn't helping." Yuta bolted out of Dream's dorm as he finished, red-faced and shaking with his frustration. He took one look down in the lobby before bolting into 127's dorm and slamming the door behind him. 

"Ge," Sicheng said, hugging Renjun's shaking form tighter. "Let's go upstairs. We should check on Jisung since we're calmer. Maybe try to mediate." Kun and Johnny both nodded. 

They took the steps like a funeral procession, socked and bare feet thumping heavily on the painted concrete. Dull blue, cracking where it dried. It could hardly be seen through the bangs falling in front of clouded, cursed eyes. 

Jisung was hyperventilating on the ground when they entered. Jeno wasn't faring much better. He wasn't crying, but he wasn't an active participant in trying to calm Jisung down, either. He was sitting, finger tapping rhythmically on his knee, gaze far away as if he were lost in thought. Writing a song, composing a melody, writing a story. Something simpler, something less painful. 

"Jisung, _breathe_ for fuck's sake!" Doyoung cried, hysterical himself. 

"How?" Jisung begged, ripping at the buttons of his nightshirt. "I don't want you, get off me!" Jisung yelled as more and more hands began to crowd into his space. 

"How can we help you? You're not giving us anything to work with!" Jaehyun said, collapsing back onto his bottom. 

"I want Jaemin-hyung," Jisung said. Kun took a long, deep breath through his nose. Had they not heard a word Yuta had said? He loved all of the members dearly, but they were a bit dense in high stake situations. Sometimes less is more, and in this case, less members crowding around a panicking Jisung would be much easier to handle. 

"Yelling at him now?" Renjun spoke up before Kun could try to be a calm mediator. Renjun wasn't exactly known for being kind and gentle with his words when he was upset. 

"We don't know what to do," Jungwoo said, nearly whining as he hopped on the balls of his feet. 

"Well freaking the Hell out and then getting in his face isn't working. Did you not hear a word anyone with a brain said?" Renjun grumbled, hopping out of Sicheng's arms and going to lean over Jisung's prone body. Each and every person looked like they wanted to snap at Renjun for his language, but no one said anything. Instead, they all lifted themselves up and backed away, letting Renjun do his thing. 

"Sungie?" Renjun whispered, kneeling down a few feet away from where Jisung lay. He didn't do anything to indicate he heard him. Renjun had been witness to a few panic attacks in his time, and this was no different. Chenle liked to be held, Jaemin wanted to be alone, Renjun wanted someone there but far away. Jisung simply liked someone to be in his eye line, someone who was there but not there. He wanted to be able to look elsewhere if he needed it. For them to be silent and let him process.

Jisung had a fantastic ability to channel his damaged inner thoughts into workable ideas. He had coping mechanisms stacked up like someone who had been collecting albums since the day they were born, and knowing this, Renjun left him alone.

Jisung closed his eyes and breathed, deep and steady after struggling through the first bouts of hitching. His fingers moved at his side, tapping the floor in a rhythmic pattern until he laid his palm flat, fingers splayed out. He tapped his feet to the same rhythm, then planted them down. He whined a little, and they all watched as he shucked his shoes off and re-did the pattern, planting his socked feet down with what they assumed was content.

He took a few more deep breaths before opening his eyes. He looked over at Renjun, still so sad and vulnerable. "Hyung, he's alive, right?" Jisung asked. Begged. 

"He is," Renjun whispered. Jisung nodded and turned away, not wanting to see Renjun sitting next to him anymore. Still there, but also not, giving the illusion of being alone. Renjun could see the others itching to do something, but Renjun glared and dared them to go anywhere near Jisung before he was fully ready. 

Renjun was amazed that no one had pulled the age card yet. They must have been really shaken up. After all, no one had been aware that life could simply cease within a matter of hours. How everything they once knew could be torn from underneath them, shimmering like water in a desert before being teasingly pulled away again. Memories, they would never fade, so the oasis was always in the distance. No matter how close they got, their hands could never swipe the surface before it was gone again, a tantalizing laugh in the distance. 

At that moment, all of NCT could empathize a little more with Chenle. How he must have felt that first day. That first month. How he must have felt in his day to day life, always seeing a glimpse of normalcy and then getting it snatched away. Performing, going on shows, and playing games. He'd been so happy. 

Back in the hospital he went with no prior warning. Hooked up to a ventilator and white blood cell count tanking over a stomach flu the maknaes had battled through in a bit more than twenty-four hours. 

Then there was Jaemin. Their energetic, far too hard-to-keep-up-with third youngest. Didn't that constitute him as part of the maknae line? Shouldn't they have kept a better eye on him?

Everyone deflated, the blame turning quickly on each person in the room. They couldn't have fixed Chenle, but they felt they could've fixed Jaemin, and now they thought they were failing again. Three times. How is that even possible?

There they were, nineteen pieces of a twenty-one piece whole. All angry and confused and broken. They had a week before more than one of them could visit Chenle. A week before he was even really aware of anyone's presence, and that's if everything went right. 

Jaemin would end up being moved to the psychiatry ward, and once that happened, it would be phone calls and windows of time he could be visited. They would likely be taken up by family if they ever responded. Their manager had still yet to hear back from Jaemin's parents. It terrified them. 

Chenle had his mother to sing him to sleep when visiting hours ended. Jaemin was alone, lying on a cold operating room table with no one to hold his hand as he awoke. 

Chenle had woken from his first surgery the same way. He'd told them how dark it had been, how much he wanted someone to be there. They were meant to learn from their mistakes, and it seemed like nothing had changed. Chenle was alone, Jaemin was alone, and they were all left grasping for straws and blame and anything else to distract themselves. 

Cancer and depression. The two most commonly used comparisons. Do you tell someone with cancer to get over it? 

Jisung lifted himself up with care, eyes soling focusing on Renjun. The elder took Jisung's hand and led him to the living room, waving a little to show that the others were free to follow. 

They all collapsed onto couches and the living room floor, silent and unaware of the show someone put on in the background. Johnny was flipping his phone around in his hands, waiting for the call to let him know what happened with Jaemin's surgery.

His phone rang, and everyone shot up. Johnny answered it without hesitation, the thick air making it hard to speak. 

"Hello?" Johnny said. The voice which responded to him was mechanical yet so real. A real person, one hardened to the tragedies they'd thrown in the faces of family and friends. 

"Na Jaemin's surgery was a success. He has been moved to recovery," the voice said, and Johnny collapsed with a sob. "We will inform you when he wakes up."

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you," Johnny chanted like a prayer. 

"Mn. You have a good night, kid," the voice said, and the line cut. 

"You too," Johnny said to no one. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he looked up at his members. "His surgery was successful. He's in recovery now." 

Several voices whopped in joy while even more let out sobs, words of gratitude thrown out as they tumbled over. Jaemin was alive. He would live through the night. 

They all made a vow to each other, crushed in a circle in Dream's small living room. No one else would fall so hard. No one else would feel so lonely, broken, and scared that they thought the only way out was down in the ground. They swore to protect each other from their demons, from the sirens that sang release with destructive measures. 

They were twenty-one and counting, but only counting up. 

* * *

They were not allowed to see Jaemin once he was recovered enough to be moved to the psychiatry wing. 

Renjun, Jeno, and Jisung fought and pleaded, nearly on their knees for the chance to see him. They were given a kind but firm no and led away back into their manager's arms. Chenle, too was off-limits, his white blood cell count continuing to drop, and his illness sticking like glue. It would be another week before any of them caught sight of their friends. 

Renjun was overwhelmed. Jisung was barely holding it together. The two of them were cracking slowly, like a broken cup poorly glued back together. The smaller the pieces they became, the harder it was to put them back together until so much of them was lost, the process seemed arduous and futile. 

Chenle and Jaemin were hurting, physically, and mentally. Chenle was dying, but so was Jaemin. The group suddenly had to confront the fact that not only was one life out of their hands, but another was also. Two pieces of a puzzle that could never be replaced, so precariously hanging in the hands of an unidentifiable, skeletal hand. 

Jisung and Renjun found solace in each other. It wasn't the same, it never would be, but they became almost unrecognizable away from each other. They slept in the same room, Jisung occasionally crawling into Renjun's bed when the loneliness made it too hard to sleep. They ate meals together, took the same cars to practice, sat with each other during solo schedules. 

The members, even in that short period, began to look at them as one cohesive being. Two broken halves of two completely different wholes, just trying to make it work. Their feelings, as liquid as water, still flowed freely through the cracks in their formation. They would never be whole, but it was easier to try than to let it all flood around them. 

When Renjun turned on his camera, Jisung was blurry and unfocused in the background. His jean-clad legs pulled up to his chest, phone settled on his knee caps. He looked rough; mussed up hair with no updated dye, a sweater two sizes too big that had once fit, glasses barely hiding the black bags under his eyes, and the breakouts on his cheeks.

Renjun tried to look a bit more presentable, but it wasn't without a struggle. He'd tamed his hair but didn't style it, put a bit of concealer over the worst of his blemishes, and decided on a fitting blue and white striped t-shirt rather than Jaemin's hoodie he'd been in for the past week. His nails were bitten and uneven, so he wore his Apple Watch, wanting to distract from anything near his hands. 

Renjun needed to get out his feelings in a more productive manner. He had thought long and hard about what to do. Painting simply wasn't working, and drawing did very little. The only thing he wanted to do was scream, and the closest thing he could find was to sing. 

  
He found the perfect song only a few hours before he filmed, in the car on the way home from Jisung's solo dance practice. It was as if it had been written specifically for him, calling out all of his innermost demons to confront him head-on. 

Renjun understood very little of the song at first. Be Kind was all in English, and a bit too fast to fully comprehend without reading as the song played. Still, he caught the general idea, and the melody struck him, and so he spent the rest of the ride home learning the lyrics and trying to form his mouth around them. Renjun was a confident English speaker, but not fluent in the slightest. To properly vent his frustrations using the song, however, he would do his best. 

Jisung had helped him set up the camera, and was going to hide away before Renjun told him to stay. Renjun had pointed to the corner and asked him to sit, and with a grimacing look in the mirror, Jisung plopped down and hid behind his legs. 

Renjun began the piano accompaniment to the song he'd chosen, one he'd managed to piece together himself. 

He sang the first verse with far more feeling than he'd sang any of their own songs. It hurt, every word felt like a knife driving into his heart. Jaemin was his first love, his first boyfriend. His first kiss. They experienced all of those scary firsts together. All of those terrifying jumps that an adult inevitably made. 

Renjun loved him. He ached to think that Jaemin was using him because he couldn't handle the darkness in his heart. 

_Wanna believe, wanna believe, that even when you're stone-cold, you're sorry,_  
_Tell me why you gotta be so out of your mind._

Jaemin breathed those three words like air. I love you, I love you, I love you. Whenever they were together, in any way, Jaemin used those words. He was never shy. He never danced around them. He showed it every day, in all the little things he did. Making Renjun coffee when he stayed up far too late, making sure all of his food had been eaten, setting out his clothes and a towel for his morning showers.

Jaemin would brush Renjun's hair, moisturize his hands with careful attention. He would be cheesy and gross and put chapstick on his own lips before leaning forward, kissing Renjun softly to transfer it. He'd use his finger to gently rub it in, whispering how Renjun needed to take better care of his lips.

They were so beautiful, he'd say. Everything about Renjun was beautiful in his words. 

_I know you're choking on your fears,_  
_Already told you I'm right here,_  
_I'll stay by your side, every night._

Renjun fell hard and fast. Like a boulder falling off a cliff. Jaemin was supposed to be there to catch him and slow his descent, but then something happened, and Jaemin wasn't there anymore. Renjun hit the ground, broken and bruised. 

Jaemin left him, locked himself away, and banned Renjun from seeing into those deep crevices in his life. No longer was Jaemin that sweet, doting boyfriend. 

Renjun tried to take the ball into his court. He tried to do those things for Jaemin, with as much care and love as Jaemin did for him. It had done something at first. Renjun would feed him breakfast, occasionally lunch in bed. Renjun would gather Jaemin's clothes and pull him into the bathroom, helping him shower when his limbs seemed too tired to do so themselves. 

Renjun realized slowly that Jaemin was simply following in a rutted pattern pretty quickly. He didn't seem to recognize that Renjun was doing it out of love. 

The first time Jaemin shoved him away when Renjun was trying to show him, really show him how much he loved him, was the start of their final downward spiral. 

_I don't know why you hide from the one,_  
_And close your eyes to the one,_  
_Mess up and lie to the one that you love._

_When you know you can cry to the one,_  
_Always confide in the one,_  
_You can be kind to the one that you love._

Jisung shot up from his spot on the floor, settling himself next to Renjun. He pulled the lyric paper from him and held a single finger up, telling Renjun not to sing the next lines. 

Everything together had become their motto. 

_I know you need, I know you need_  
_The upper hand even when we aren't fighting_

Jisung sang. It wasn't as emotional as Renjun's, but the passion behind it was evident. 

Chenle and Jisung had begun dating before life seemed to perpetually feel fake. There was no question that their love and devotion was true. All the things that Jaemin did for Renjun were done with them as well, but it seemed more innocent. More pure and free. Chenle never had to hit the ground because Jisung had been right there, arms open to catch him. 

_But if you're gonna fight then do it for me_  
_I know you're built to love, but broken now, so just try, yeah_

It scared Renjun to think that he and Jaemin had gone too far too fast. How their first time had been when Jaemin had already been lost to his own demons. Renjun wondered, traitorously, if he had given himself to the wrong Jaemin. If he should have said no. If they should have waited like he knew Chenle and Jisung had. 

Chenle and Jisung, their sweet, young maknaes who were living such a tragic love story. Who were pure and innocent in a way not many teenagers their age could understand. Their love wasn't superficial. It was deeply rooted in loyalty and countless years of friendship. 

Renjun nearly slammed his hands down on the piano keys as Jisung finished the verse. They both picked it up together, singing at the same time.

Jisung held onto Renjun's shoulder as they sang. His voice was cracking dangerously, but it added something to the song. Something more raw and deep. 

_I know it's hard for you, but it's not fair_  
_Going sick in the head tryna get you there_

Renjun sang, finally acknowledging his own slip. His own downward spiral into that void. He wasn't depressed, he couldn't be, but he was. 

Jisung hugged him tightly as Renjun cried through the chorus. He played his accompaniment with all of his emotion, both of them finishing out the song together. Renjun shot up and turned the camera off before burying himself in Jisung's shoulder. 

Their maknae shouldn't be comforting the eldest member of the group. Renjun tried to shoot the thought away. That exact line of thinking was what nearly killed Jaemin. 

"I'm here, hyung," Jisung whispered. Renjun pulled himself together and wiped his tears, sighing bitterly. 

"Thank you, Jisungie," Renjun nodded, looking so small with his puffy face and red eyes. 

"Always. We're in this together," Jisung said. 

Of all of the relationships formed after Chenle's diagnosis, it was clear that Renjun and Jisung were going to be a powerful one. The most eternal of all friends. The ones who came together in the bleakest, most painful scenarios and still managed to hold each other together. 

Anam Cara, a soul friend. Someone who understood them in ways no one else seemed too. Jisung trusted Renjun not to become overbearing or abrasive when he crashed and burned, suffocating in his own tears and panic. Renjun trusted Jisung not to flinch and run, locking himself away whenever Renjun yelled or lost his temper. 

They held on tight to each other, not merely biding their time but building something new and sturdy. Something they had to hold onto when all else failed. They were each other's Hail Marys. 

They discussed a few late nights about the pain of no one understanding you. Yuta had been right -- Jisung, especially, was not who they thought he was. He was efficient and knowledgeable in a crisis. He could hold himself up and get shit done before finally collapsing in on himself, needing to rework his inner mind before getting up and moving on. He had to learn quickly because Chenle needed him to be swift and consistent. 

Being trapped, unable to execute what he knew needed to be done was torture. He had a system that simply couldn't be meddled with. Perhaps that was an issue that Jisung could work on in itself, but it had saved Chenle's life countless times. If someone had pulled Jisung away when Chenle had first vomited in his sleep, Chenle could've suffocated. If they had trapped him against the kitchen counters when Chenle first fainted or his trach first got clogged or anything else Jisung negated with research, knowledge, and quick thinking...He couldn't stand to think about it. 

Renjun had to remind him countless times that he wasn't God. That no matter what, sometimes things were out of his hands. It didn't matter. Jisung had so many ideas that might have changed the outcome of Jaemin's prognosis, even if it was favorable regardless. He could've given him CPR and done chest compressions when he stopped breathing. He could've pressed down on the right spots on his injured arm. He could've kept Jaemin occupied and awake. 

No, he wasn't God, but he still felt everything fell to him. He didn't spend hours of his time pouring over medical books and watching years worth of pirated college material to be shoved against a wall and told no, you're too young to see. 

Renjun, Yuta, Ten, Yukhei, and Taeyong seemed to snap easily on the subject. They were insistent that Jisung deserved the right to execute his skills that he'd accumulated. Like Doyoung and Jaehyun, some were convinced Jisung was too young to genuinely have skills and not dumb luck. The rest of them were worried, believing Jisung was taking on too much responsibility.

It didn't matter. Renjun and Chenle's opinions of him were the only ones that really mattered at the end of the day. Jisung knew Renjun felt the same about how Jisung perceived him. At least they were on each other's sides. 

Jisung wasn't blind enough to think Renjun wasn't worried for him, even if he was the first to defend these thoughts. He had that look, the one would give someone about to do a trick on a skateboard for the first time. Trust, but wary. Terrified of seeing the fall.

Jisung felt it was unnecessary. He was fine. He had his ways of coping that he'd spent hours researching and applying to his life. He had his pool of knowledge to pull from whenever he felt himself slipping. He'd be fine. Renjun knew. 

In fact, he had plenty of ideas for how to help Renjun with his own depression. He could do it. It would take strength and willpower to help pull Renjun up, but he knew he was capable. He'd done so for Chenle, and even if Jaemin slipped through his fingers, that didn't mean he was a failure. He would do better. He was sure there were books and videos on perception training so he'd be able to catch these things before they fester and explode.

Jisung willed himself to keep moving, even as the rest of his band members watched with silent worry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> I thank you so much for sticking with this story through the climax of Part One. You all are amazing, so dedicated and kind, and I couldn't have asked for better readers. I hope that the end of this part leaves you feeling satisfied and reading for part 2. 
> 
> Jeno and Jisung will have a large part in the opening of the final conclusion to this part. I know Jeno has been sorely left out, but that is intentional. Try to think of reasons someone may vanish into the background during hard to handle things.
> 
> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


	11. PART I: Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung grumbled and moaned as he dragged himself into the kitchen. He had managed to sleep a full hour after all of his research, and he was feeling it. Bad. Jeno and Renjun were already awake, bent over bowls of rice as they watched something on Jeno’s phone. They both looked up, and with hardly concealed joy, motioned for him to sit. 
> 
> Jisung was unnerved by the happiness radiating off the two remaining members of the dorm, but he settled down anyway. Renjun hopped up and grabbed a bowl of rice and soup, plopping them in front of Jisung. “Dig in,” Renjun said, hiding his smile behind his hand. 
> 
> “What’s up with you?” Jisung asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations, you have made it through the worst of the angst! I hope you all enjoy the final chapter of Part 1. 
> 
> Lmao if any of you caught me changing the summary one, two...ten times, my bad. I blame my bad English skills but really it's just me being an airhead.

Jisung looked curiously at Jeno as he pushed open the front door, closing it quietly as if he didn’t want to be heard. It was nearing eleven pm, and even though Jeno was known for being out most of the day, it still was far later than Jisung was normally aware of Jeno coming home. 

Jeno slipped his shoes off and dropped his bag, jumping about ten feet off the ground with fancy hand movements to boot when he looked up and saw Jisung staring. The youngest raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, pretending to have any sort of power over what Jeno did or didn’t do. Surprisingly, Jeno dropped his head with a bit of a smile. 

“Sorry, I lost track of time,” Jeno whispered, looking up to gouge Jisung’s reaction. When it didn’t change, he continued on. “It’s not that late?” He tried, and Jisung just sighed and worked to heat up enough water for two cups of ramen. Once they were done, he settled them down on the table and motioned for Jeno to come forward, and he did, but with all the dramatics of a guilty three-year-old. 

“Where have you been lately?” Jisung asked, not waiting for a response before digging into his ramen.

“Out. Just, out,” Jeno said, tentatively eating a singular ramen noodle. Jisung glared until Jeno grumbled and ate like a normal person. 

“Out where? Out in the living room, out in the kitchen, out of the closet?” Jisung joked, and Jeno slapped him good-naturedly. 

“Gotta save some room for you,” Jeno rebutted, and Jisung guffawed. 

“Pretty sure I’m not the one you have to worry about taking up space,” Jisung said, earning a look from Jeno he didn’t feel like dissecting.

“Nah, I was at my mom’s today,” Jeno said, letting the teasing die out. Jisung believed him. Jeno’s family had become overly high spirited whenever they spoke to the group. It was as if their whole lives had changed for the better, and Jeno coming around more seemed to be enough to do that. Jisung thought about his own family for a moment but then pushed it away. It would be a long time before he’d be able to see them and have a full, non-confronting conversation again. 

“Was she happy to see you?” Jisung asked instead of letting his thoughts linger too long. Jeno smiled dopily and nodded. 

“She’s great. She’s been teaching me how to cook and sew,” Jeno gushed, his smile still not dropping from his face. Jisung hummed and motioned for him to go on, but it didn’t seem like Jeno had anything more to say. 

“Is that where you’ve been all this time?” Jisung asked, and Jeno looked a bit startled. 

“Yes and no,” Jeno responded. Jisung looked Jeno up and down, taking in everything about the man’s body. He looked like the complete opposite of Jaemin. More muscle, a healthy amount of fat on his face, lush hair, and well taken care of nails. He’d for sure been taking care of himself, although Jisung could nearly attribute a hundred percent of this fact to his family. The last time Jeno had spent a full day in the dorm, he’d looked as rough and ragged as Jisung himself on a daily basis. 

“Gym?” Jisung asked, getting a hum of confirmation from Jeno. It’s not as if he really needed to ask. The physical proof was there, and Yukhei had recently posted photos of him and Jeno exercising at the company gym. “You look good.” 

“I’ve actually been thinking about doing what Chenle used to do.” Jeno blurted out, trailing off with the statement. Jisung tried not to show his shock, but the hit to the gut forced his face to contort noticeably. Jeno sighed and looked down, stabbing at the bottom of his ramen cup with his chopsticks. What Chenle used to do...Jeno wanted to leave? “Not forever, just for now.”

Jisung tried not to get angry. Jeno wanting to be at home with his family during something as traumatizing as this wasn’t a selfish request. It was the not forever statement that got him. Until Chenle is better? Until Jaemin is better? No, Jisung wanted to slap himself. He was taking things too personally. Jeno just wanted to feel normal, to feel safe. There’s nothing wrong with that. 

“You should do whatever makes you feel safe and secure, hyung,” Jisung said, grasping Jeno’s calloused hand. 

“I feel like we’re all falling apart,” Jeno whispered. “It’s scary. It almost feels like walking into a battleground sometimes. My mom helps me so much, and she talks me through things and shows me new ways of dealing with it. I just feel like if we keep going like this, we’re all going to crash and burn, and there won’t be an NCT Dream when Chenle comes back.” Jeno finished but didn’t look up. 

Jisung thought long and hard over what he said. Being around family was good, and SM had given them all the options to go home or to stay. They’d all stayed because Chenle needed them. Chenle wanted to be surrounded by his friends and the normalcy and excitement of idol life. What happened to that? What happened to them?

Jisung knew it was the overwhelming lack of mental health care for the group. Just because Jisung spent ninety percent of his day reading psychology books and researching depression and anxiety coping mechanisms didn’t mean the others did. Jaemin had been doing the complete opposite! Jeno was right, without a massive change, this wasn’t going to work. 

“You’re right,” Jisung said after deliberating so long Jeno had started crying. He looked up like a startled deer, wiping away the lingering remains of tears. “This all needs to change. Each person in this dorm needs real, genuine coping mechanisms. We all need someone to go to that isn’t each other. Understanding is great, but it’s biased too. Jaemin goes to therapy now, and the company offers a few free sessions.” Jisung rambled, lifting himself up and grabbing his phone to begin researching. 

Jeno let him go, watching as Jisung wrote out therapists’ names and websites dedicated to coping with cancer and depression. 

“Maybe even instead of staying at the dorm during off times, we all can go home. I mean, I don’t particularly want to, and I don’t think Jaemin hyung would jump at the idea, but for you guys! I mean, you look amazing, hyung. I can’t see inside your head, but a healthy body is a sign of a healthy mind.” Wow, Jisung talked fast. Jeno could hardly keep up. “I’m sure Taeyong-hyung has a few recommendations. Chenle’s therapist is really nice, but she only does online visits.”

“Chenle goes to therapy?” Jeno asked, completely surprised. 

“You didn’t know?” Jisung questioned, pausing his fast-paced writing and looking up. Jeno shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, he’s done a few online visits when stuff gets really bad. Usually when doctors tell him how long he has left to live or something equally as stupid. Like they’ve ever been right.” Jisung paused, letting himself calm down. No point in acting petulant over someone doing their job. 

“I see,” Jeno said, trailing off. Of all the reactions he’d expected to have to his thoughts on going home, this had not been one. When had Jisung become such a mad scientist?

“There!” Jisung shouted ecstatically, holding up a paper of poorly written words and lopsided phone numbers that Jeno hopelessly tried to read. Jisung ended up pulling the paper back before Jeno could decipher anything pertinent, sticking it up on the fridge with a magnet that had already been holding something, allowing whatever it was to float to the floor. “Perfect. I’ll show it to manager-nim tomorrow.”

“Well that was something!” Jeno said, eyes wide. “I genuinely feel ready to go, and I don’t even know where we’re going.” Jeno laughed and shook his head, taking a deep breath to try and calm the adrenaline Jisung’s fast speech had given him. 

“Good, because I need your help,” Jisung said, plopping back down into his chair and looking at Jeno directly. He still looked a bit mad, so it was easy for Jeno to err on the side of his own interests at first. 

“I don’t know, Jisungie,” Jeno said, but those mad scientist eyes dropped into Jisung’s doe eyes, which absolutely no one could say no to. Jeno groaned and grumbled and smacked his foot on the ground, but if Jisung had an idea for how to fix the group’s structural integrity, then who was he to say no? His friends were his life, and if he left, there may be a day he wouldn’t be able to come back. With all the trust and hope left in him, Jeno resigned. “Fine! Fine, I’ll help you.”

“Yes! Thank you, Jeno-hyung!” Jisung shouted, shooting up out of his seat and crashing into Jeno. They didn’t hug for long. Jisung was far too excited to get started on all of his plans, but it was enough to rejuvenate the emptiness Jeno had felt near his members. “I love you!” Jisung said, kissing him disgustingly on the cheek before running off to his and Jaemin’s shared room.

That kid! What a monster. 

Jeno pushed the thoughts of permanently moving home to the side. Jisung needed _him_ for once. He’d actually asked _Jeno_ for his help! He thought back to how he’d screwed up when Jaemin had gone to the hospital, how he felt he had no place in the dorm after being clouded by his own need to control. Jeno pushed the thoughts away, crumbling them up like paper and throwing them into his mental trash can, just like his mother taught him. 

Jeno had felt so alone and out of the loop for months. Jaemin had Renjun, Chenle had Jisung, and where did that leave him? Some awkward outsider that occasionally pushed themselves in, but that was it. Even Mark spent most of his time with Johnny, and Donghyuck was everyone’s friend. It had been tiring trying to force himself into the group, so he’d turned to the next most obvious choice. His family.

Jisung needed his help now. He’d chosen Jeno over Renjun or Chenle. It shouldn’t feel like a trial, but it did. Like he was getting initiated back into his own friend group. Jeno smiled sadly. He had known from the start that this was inevitable. He shot a quick text off to his mom to let her know he made it home safely, and his sad smile turned genuine as she sent him a text back full of emojis for him to decipher. 

He went to bed with the sound of Jisung typing down the hallway, luring him to sleep. 

* * *

Jisung grumbled and moaned as he dragged himself into the kitchen. He had managed to sleep a full hour after all of his research, and he was feeling it. Bad. Jeno and Renjun were already awake, bent over bowls of rice as they watched something on Jeno’s phone. They both looked up, and with hardly concealed joy, motioned for him to sit. 

Jisung was unnerved by the happiness radiating off the two remaining members of the dorm, but he settled down anyway. Renjun hopped up and grabbed a bowl of rice and soup, plopping them in front of Jisung. “Dig in,” Renjun said, hiding his smile behind his hand. 

“What’s up with you?” Jisung asked, specifically targeting Renjun with the statement. Their close bond had come with a perception boost when it came to the eldest. He was hiding something, but for once, it didn’t seem to be something negative. 

“Eat, I worked hard on that soup,” Renjun pouted, putting a spoon in Jisung’s hand. 

“You’re acting weird,” Jisung sighed, cocking his head to the side. He took a sip of the soup and a bite of rice, chewing thoughtfully as Jeno and Renjun hid behind Jeno’s phone. With a bit of apprehension, Jisung looked around their kitchen and living room, trying to find something out of order. Nothing seemed different, so he went back to eating. 

It was nice to see Jeno and Renjun interacting. Jeno hadn’t been around for so long that simple things like watching a shared video was out of the ordinary. It was different than watching a movie or going to practice. It was more intimate, the two shoved into each other’s space. Jisung hummed happily, both from the food and the sight of his friends so close and enjoying each other’s company. 

Jisung’s vision blackened as a pair of hands covered his eyes. His heart stopped, rice lodging in his throat. The hands were shaking and warm. “Boo,” A familiar voice said, and in an instant, Jisung was hopping out of his seat and tackling the person in something a little less than a bone-crushing hug.

Chenle’s laugh sounded like music. Like something the most tried and true artists of all time wouldn’t be able to stand up to. Jisung cried and rocked them, both of them nearly falling over when neither could find their footing. “Oh my God, you’re here!” Jisung sobbed, pressing sloppy kisses all over Chenle’s own tear-stained face. 

“I missed you,” Chenle chuckled, wrapping his arms around Jisung’s shoulders. Jisung lifted him up, hugging him tight and twirling them around. He hadn’t felt so much joy and elation in...well, maybe his entire life. Nothing compared to having Chenle in his arms after the three weeks of Hell they’d endured. 

“I missed you so much. I just--” Jisung set Chenle down, hand tapping at his chest as if trying to dislodge the words he needed to say. “I’m so happy.” Was all that came out. Chenle leaned up and kissed him, tongue instantly snaking out to glide against Jisung’s bottom lip. The younger opened his mouth without hesitation. 

“Okay, you can have the room, just please stop making out in the middle of the living room,” Renjun said, waving them off. Chenle planted his feet into the ground when Jisung attempted to guide him away, earning a confused look from both Jisung and Renjun. 

“What’s wrong?” Jisung asked, eyebrows pulled down with his frown. 

“Nothing,” Chenle smiled. Jisung looked back at Renjun curiously, noticing the poorly concealed smile Jeno was wearing as well. 

“I don’t like this,” Renjun said, nervously twiddling his fingers. It was fun when he was a part of it, but being on the receiving end? No, thank you.

Just as Chenle was about to open his mouth to speak, the front door creaked open. All eyes shot over, first taking in Donghyuck and Mark walking in. They were both smiling gently, several bags in their hands. Jisung saw Chenle’s hospital bag, a gift from his family, and…

Jisung’s heart stopped as a gasp ripped itself from his chest. Renjun, too, was wide-eyed, tears already gathering as he slowly lifted himself from his chair. He nearly fell over, hands grasping at the polished wood, Jeno making sure to keep a grounding hand on Renjun’s back. 

Jaemin’s bag was there, clutched in Mark’s hand. 

“Chenle,” Jisung turned hopefully to Chenle, his hand grasping at his chest as Chenle smiled happily at him. He giggled, so bright and wonderful, and Jisung felt himself melt. All the pain and longing and anger he felt vanished, leaving him feeling lighter than a balloon as finally, after three weeks, Jaemin walked through the door. 

His head was down as he shuffled in, and it took only a second before Renjun was running. Their eldest crashed into Jaemin with the force of an expertly wielded hammer, Jaemin nearly falling over at the impact. Jaemin seemed nervous, as if he didn’t know if he should hug back. Renjun lifted himself up and wrapped his legs around Jaemin’s waist, leaving Jaemin no other option but to wrap his arms around him in return. 

“Don’t _do_ that again!” Renjun screamed quite suddenly, smacking Jaemin hard in the chest. Mark and Donghyuck flinched back at the outburst, but Jaemin didn’t so much as twitch an eyelid. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin whispered, placing a nervous kiss on Renjun’s temple. “I’m so fucking sorry. That was so damn stupid, Jun, I-I love you. I do. I swear.” Renjun buried his face in Jaemin’s neck. 

“I just wanted to hold your hand when you woke up,” Renjun whispered, breath hitching. Jaemin looked at all of the members gathered in the living room, giving them a small smile and a nod. They wanted to hug him, tackle him, and shower him in the love they’d been holding in all the time he’d been gone. Still, they didn’t say a word as Jaemin carried Renjun to his and Jisung’s shared room and shut the door. 

“I visited him when I was allowed out of isolation yesterday,” Chenle said, breaking the silence. “He’s trying really hard, Sungie. Please don’t hate him.” Jisung looked down curiously, nearly losing his head at the request. Hate him?

“I don’t hate him, where did you get that idea?” Jisung asked. 

“I’d talk to him when you can,” Chenle said, holding Jisung’s hand tightly. He took the words to heart, fully intending to talk to Jaemin whenever he was sure Jaemin was ready. Chenle and Jaemin also had long, hard weeks, and they needed all the time to recover and acclimate as the rest of the members did. 

With no way to confront the issue yet, Jisung turned his attention back to his boyfriend. He smiled, overjoyed to see Chenle looking so healthy standing in front of him. It had to have been more than a month since he’d last seen red in Chenle’s cheeks. “I missed you,” Jisung whispered, capturing Chenle’s surprisingly soft lips with his own. 

“About Renjun telling you to get a room,” Jeno chuckled, finally making himself known again. Donghyuck and Mark gave them similar looks as they settled next to Jeno at the table, waving them off. 

They both ran, Jisung tasing Chenle in the side just to hear his high-pitched yelp of surprise and the resulting laugh after. They crashed into bed together, Chenle’s hands burying into Jisung’s hair instinctively as they kissed.

There was only one word to describe how Jisung felt at that moment. 

Whole. 

* * *

Jaemin pushed open the door to his and Jisung’s shared room late that night. Jisung looked up from his phone, glasses falling to the bridge of his nose. He looked intimidating, as if he were glaring at the elder boy, easily noticeable by the way Jaemin clammed up on himself instantly. 

“Jisungie, I-” Jaemin tried to say, but his voice cut out. Jisung dropped his phone and lifted himself up, staring at the nervous figure, willing him to continue. “I’m _sorry_,” Jisung didn’t expect the way Jaemin cried out, bowing down so low his back cracked unhappily. 

“Hyung-” Jisung went to say, but Jaemin cut him off.

“I know what I did was wrong, but I just couldn’t take it. The thought of everyone knowing how messed up I was. I mean, what if the company had kicked me out? I was _terrified_, Jisung. I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t mean to leave Renjun like that. I worked so hard, I did, I wanted everyone to rely on me._ I didn’t mean to_,” Jaemin settled down onto his knees, quaking hands pressing into closed eyes. 

Had this been what Jaemin had been anticipating his entire time in the hospital? The moment he had to grovel on his knees and beg for forgiveness? Jisung wanted to tell him to get up. To forget all about it, because Jaemin had nearly died and it simply wasn’t worth it anymore. Yes, Jisung had been mad, but not mad enough he’d ever once considered kicking Jaemin out of his life.

It looked like Jaemin was on trial for a war crime. Like he was only one wrong word from being tossed out on the street with nothing but the clothes on his back. 

Jisung jumped the ladder down to the floor. He jogged over to his hyung, arms moving to wrap around Jaemin’s shaking figure, but Jaemin backed away. “I can’t handle the thought of you hating me. I’m sorry, hyung will do better. I will, you just have to trust me. I will, I can do better.” Jisung put a hand over Jaemin’s mouth, and with a broken sigh, Jaemin closed his eyes and dropped his head. 

“You don’t need to put on an act for me, hyung,” Jisung began, trying to get Jaemin to look at him. When it didn’t work, Jisung continued on. “I know you’re hurting. I know how eaten up you are inside over this. Renjun is fine, it was a stomach bug--”

“You don’t know the rest,” Jaemin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with recently cut nails. 

“No, but Renjun-hyung does, and he’s been tied to your hip all day. I trust his judgment. Stop trying to play a character, hyung. You’re killing yourself trying to pretend you’re fine, that the world is right because you can keep it turning or whatever. Just cut it out, because--” Jisung was getting worked up, his voice wavering. “I can’t handle you not being here. No matter how much I want my own room, I’d rather it not be because you thought you were alone, and I just didn’t find out fast enough.”

Jaemin chuckled darkly as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. Jisung looked at his hyung, really looked at him for the first time in months. Jaemin was a skeletal version of the hyung Jisung had once known. His face was gaunt and pale, arms and legs so skinny his outfit was hanging limply off his frame. His eyes looked sunken and dark, cheeks so hollow they looked purposefully sucked in.

Hadn’t the hospital fed him? Or had he always looked that bad, and Jisung had just never noticed?

“Don’t leave me, hyung,” Jisung sobbed, falling back onto his knees as he cried. Jaemin shuffled and grabbed Jisung’s hands, pulling them away from his face. He wiped at the tears and smiled, grey teeth barely showing. “I can’t lose you, too.”

There it was. That horrifying, heavy thought that seemed to linger like a specter behind each and every member. That obligatory too. Losing Jaemin would be an unnavigable loss. All of the love, energy, and time poured into each member gone with the click of a clock, the turn of the tides. Jisung thought he could hear the sound of a book thumping closed, pages filled to the brim with words, a cliff-hanger ending. 

“My Jisungie, tears don’t suit you,” Jaemin said, and Jisung wanted to scream. He was still doing it. Trying to be okay when he so clearly wasn’t. 

“Hyung, stop,” Jisung begged, and it had the adverse reaction of making Jaemin cry again. Jisung felt like shit, like the worst younger brother, but Jisung needed Jaemin to understand that faking wasn’t helping. “Scream, yell, cry, throw things, I don’t care! Just stop doing this.” Jisung wanted to say he was terrified. What if Jaemin acted perfectly fine, and then one day he woke up to find Jaemin all but dead on the bathroom floor again?

It felt like a nasty form of blackmail, so Jisung kept it to himself. 

“I’m supposed to protect you,” Jaemin cried. “I don’t have siblings, so I think of you as my real little brother. I’m supposed to be there for you, always. No matter what.”

“And you are, hyung. You’re always right behind me, every time I need you. But sometimes, I don’t need you. Sometimes you need me. All relationships are two ways; let me be there for you, too,” Jisung said, and Jaemin let out a hearty, real laugh.

“You sound like Renjun,” Jaemin said. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together, I hear?”

“Yeah, we have,” Jisung responded. He thought back to the cover they’d filmed together, the video blacked out and posted under an anonymous account. They’d received only a few views, and not many comments, but it suited them just fine. Renjun believed that those who needed it would find it. 

“I’m glad. I would be jealous if you weren’t so disgustingly in love with Chenle,” Jaemin teased, punching Jisung lightly in the shoulder. 

“Very different love,” Jisung said, scrunching up his nose. Jaemin nodded and looked down, lip pulled between his teeth. “What is it, hyung?”

“Are we okay?” Jaemin asked, so broken it nearly shattered Jisung right along with him. 

“Of course. We’re family, forever,” Jisung said, throwing himself back into Jaemin’s arms. They sat, buried in each other’s embraces until their knees took on the pattern of the carpet and the sun long set behind the horizon. 

Jisung felt ripples of electricity shooting from his pounding heart up to his head, tickling each and every hair follicle until he couldn’t bear it anymore. He scratched at his head, jostling their hug but not enough to end it. He was still scared. He didn’t trust Jaemin by himself, and the night was slowly wearing down until it neared early morning. He was tired, but he couldn’t justify letting his eyes slip closed. 

If he couldn’t see Jaemin, if he didn’t know someone was with him? Jisung’s heart lurched painfully, flashes of Jaemin’s blood soaking the bathroom floor bombarding him. Bombs, arrows, gunshots. Each and every memory embodies a new weapon, ripping apart a different part of Jisung’s psyche and physical body until he felt vulnerable and weak. As if he was one wrong move away from shattering like a glass bowl. 

Jisung steeled himself, shoving each painful memory and negative feeling deep. He looked at the bad thoughts like liquid darkness, lightning rippling through the streams, and igniting the good like useless newspaper clippings. He stared, determined, and strong-willed, as he imagined the stream condense. The lightning got stronger, thunder clapping and wind whipping through his hair and clothes. 

He kept going until the stream became nothing but a drop of darkness, only small flickers of light illuminating his inner mind’s darkness. He sighed shakily, both in spirit and in real life. Exhaustion settled, and he crumbled, lifelessly laying himself against Jaemin’s solid chest. He pulled himself back to the present, no more memories or thoughts greeting him as he drifted off instantly. 

Jaemin stared down at the limp body in his arms. Jisung’s cheek was pressed quite hilariously, pushed up and showing off a few teeth. His eyes were scrunched closed, neck titled so far back it looked painful. Hilarity, a bit adorable, a complete contrast to the reality of Jisung’s inner state. 

Jaemin sighed and lifted himself up, working hard to lift Jisung into his arms. It didn’t work. He was weak in constitution, and Jisung’s arm simply flopped lifelessly down Jaemin’s shoulder. He grumbled in aggravation when Chenle and Renjun shuffled in, the latter looking at him with a fond sort of teasing gaze. 

“My baby,” Chenle cooed, instantly shooing Jaemin away and taking over holding Jisung up. The shifting woke the youngest, but Chenle was quick to shush him, hands carding through hair and scratching at his scalp until Jisung began to nod off again. 

“Love you,” Jisung murmured, and Chenle kissed him gently on the forehead. 

“I love you more,” Chenle whispered, a bright smile scrunching his eyes. He hugged Jisung like he was an oversized teddy bear. Their youngest was still kneeling uncomfortably, but Chenle had simply wrapped his legs around the back of Jisung’s knees, keeping him from expending too much energy to keep himself up. Chenle laid his head atop Jisung’s, arms wrapped loosely around Jisung’s shoulders. 

“That could be us, but you playin’,” Renjun tried to joke, but Jaemin and Chenle both looked up with disgusted frowns. Renjun took this in stride, laughing with far too much mirth for such a cringe-worthy meme. 

“You can’t hang out with Jisung anymore,” Jaemin said, getting an indignant guffaw out of Chenle. He looked up at Jaemin with narrowed eyes and blown out cheeks as if wondering how exactly Jaemin got the idea that Jisung had been the one to teach Renjun to say that. 

“I got it from you?” Renjun said with an enigmatic smile. 

Jaemin grumbled and rolled his eyes, whispering, “You can’t hang out with me anymore.” Chenle and Renjun both slapped their knees as they laughed. The combination of said slaps and laughing was loud enough Jisung grumbled and whined, pulling back with puffy eyes barely opened.

“I’m sorry,” Chenle cooed, kissing Jisung’s pouty lips and allowing him to lay back on his chest. 

“Yeah, okay,” Renjun responded much quieter, feeling bad for waking their youngest so often. It wasn’t as if it were early, the clock had struck midnight as Chenle had been switching places with Jaemin, meaning it was inching ever closer to one. Jisung, Jeno, and Jaemin were outstanding competitors for the who can stay up until sunrise award. Still, it had been a long day, and no one seemed entertained by the thought of seeing daylight before a bit of sleep.

Just as they were considering how exactly to move Jisung without waking him up again, Mark, Donghyuck, and Jeno all waltzed in. They were carrying piles of blankets and pillows, making them look as if they’d tried for a horrible impersonation of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. They all looked up curiously and with a bit of confusion. 

“Did you think we were going to leave you alone tonight?” Mark asked, shrugging off all the odd looks. He threw the blankets down, and they all got to work setting up a place to sleep on Jisung and Jaemin’s floor. Jeno was the one to lift Jisung up from Chenle’s arms and settle him down, Chenle instantly collapsing down beside him. He rubbed his cheek into Jisung’s shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Once he was comfortable, Jeno tossed a blanket over them with a soft sleep well. 

Mark, Donghyuck, and Jeno all laid down with a bit more space, joking about how it looked nearly impersonal next to Chenle and Jisung’s cuddling. Donghyuck shot up after a moment, yelling out that he got to cuddle Jeno and that all the others were sorely missing out. Mark let out an indignant hey before rolling over and cuddling Jeno’s opposite side. Jeno was laughing heartily and unabashedly, not used to so much love given to him. Jaemin smiled at the sight and laid down, Renjun only hesitating for a moment before falling into Jaemin’s open arms. 

They nodded off like that, glued together and barely holding, but whole all the same. They didn’t know what the next day would bring. If their contentment, their happiness, would last. They held on even in their dreams, a world of non-existent strife. 

The moon reflected on the new addition to Jaemin and Jisung’s room, a vision board Jaemin made while in therapy. It was covered in photos of the members, one of his grandmother, and two of his dogs. A tracklist was pasted haphazardly on top, the very top song bolded and decorated, titled **EMPATH**.

The lyrics followed, quickly written, and sloppy, but the meaning was conveyed even through just the simple act of writing. 

_A million voices cloud my mind, _  
_A shattered heart, a shattered life. _  
_Just tryna have a peaceful night,_  
_But this stranger’s soul is tied with mine._

_I don’t wanna bear this weight,_  
_But their blood starts pumping through my veins._  
_Don’t let me sink into their grave,_  
_Just gotta be alone today._

The sound of Chenle’s tracheostomy, while once so heavy and depressing, was now a comfort as the group tossed and turned through the night. At some point, Jaemin woke, ears honing in on the sound. Chenle was alive. He was living each day, each hour, each minute, as if he would never get another. 

Jaemin didn’t know how he did it, but deep in his heart, he could look to Chenle for guidance. For hope. 

_Feels like the weight of the world,_  
_I’m not strong enough._  
_Don’t know where to run,_  
_Would you hold me up?_

_Oh, I’m crumbling down,_  
_Sink into the ground._  
_Would you lift me up?_  
_Lift me up. _

“Go to sleep, hyung,” Chenle whispered, eyes fluttering open. He smiled, so sweet and tired that Jaemin’s heart ached. What was he meant to do when that smile was no longer around? 

Chenle lifted himself up and stepped over Renjun, settling down on his bottom. He played with Jaemin’s hair, twisting it and letting it fall, then starting all over. He hummed as well as he could, deep and a bit melancholy for the moon-lit night, but Jaemin still felt himself relaxing. He closed his eyes, letting the safe feeling of being comforted wash over him. 

Chenle didn’t say a word as Jaemin fell asleep again. He lifted himself up and walked to the window, hand on his trach. The blue straps were beginning to chafe at his neck, and he knew they’d need changed in the morning. Such a little thing that changed his entire life. Three millimeters of wind-pipe left, and he’d still lived to see things he’d never anticipated. 

It hurt, and he was tired. Sometimes he wished they’d give him the option to just stop, but it was always worth it in the end. One more week, and then he’d have the tumor removed. Then, if it all went well, he could say goodbye to his tracheostomy and start living his life again.

Chenle turned with an agonizing sigh. He had a week with his friends, then he’d be gone again. He allowed his eyes to float over each person, taking in each of their features. Jisung had given him a pretty good rundown of what happened while he was gone, and Chenle found that he was amazed by the integrity of their group. Any other would have likely crumbled and vanished early on, but here they were. 

Jisung had gone through his plan for group therapy and different little things they could all do together. They didn’t have many group exercises, but other idol groups had near-constant bonding experiences. Jisung and Chenle pulled many of their ideas from groups under Big Hit, collecting different things they’d done during Run!BTS or TXT’s new series and deciding what would be the most fun. They believed that with more entertaining, light-hearted, open-ended things to do together, their bond would solidify. They would be more genuine in their friendship. More than just coworkers and roommates. 

Chenle smiled as he thought over a few of their ideas. It was like Chenji’s This and That but the Shanghai episode, over and over and with _all_ the members. He was giddy as he plopped down next to Jisung, once again rousing him from his sleep. Jisung grumbled and reached out, grabbing Chenle by the chest and pulling him down onto the blankets. Jisung used Chenle’s chest as a pillow this time, and he was out in seconds.

Chenle smiled and wrapped his arms around his big baby of a boyfriend. He thought about the more upsetting parts of what Jisung told him. Jeno being lonely and wanting to leave, Renjun’s depression, his own panic attacks. 

Chenle went to Mark first to talk about Jeno. He and Jaemin had used to be so close, always riding bikes, playing games, or watching their favorite shows. Chenle could admit he wasn’t around that much with his eight-hour chemotherapy sessions, but he didn’t realize Jeno hadn’t been around. He’d thought life had continued on as usual for him, at least, until they all began to tap into Jaemin’s changes. Damn, Chenle could slap himself. Of course Jeno felt lonely. He’d lost his best friend and partner in crime. 

Mark had promised to make a real, genuine effort to include Jeno more. They all loved and adored him, so it wasn’t like it was fake or forced. Everyone was slipping. Other people just began to fade when thinking about their own issues or those in their immediate circle. Mark, for sure, took the promise to heart, and Donghyuck had as well. They’d been pouring everything into Jeno, and it had only been one day! Chenle couldn’t imagine how much better he’d feel after a week or month of that treatment. 

Chenle hoped that they all could pour the same amount of love into each person in the room. Isn’t that what held the world together? Love and compassion? Guilt be damned, it was time to rebuild what they’d lost. Chenle wasn’t going to live life wondering about what if he had done this, or what if he had said this. Nope, not even close. All they had was right now, and what they were given is enough to work with. 

Renjun was going to be okay. Jaemin was going to be okay. Jeno and Jisung were going to be okay. It just took time and effort and care for them to get there. It took work and willpower. Chenle would never give up on his family, and he’d never waste a single second of his time wallowing in self-pity. After all, it was them that had to live with the fallout, not him. 

He refused to leave his family until they were bound together like soulmates. As if their essences were tied by fate. He wanted them to trust each other, to know that they had someone there no matter what. 

Even if Chenle was gone, he wanted to leave a piece of himself in each and every person. Something they could recognize and say_ there he is_. He knew exactly what piece that was.

Hope. He wanted to instill hope. The thing that seemed sorely lacking the most, the thing that could’ve saved them. That could still save them. 

Chenle looked at the skeletal version of Jaemin and didn’t allow his heart to break. This was his starting ground. This was step one. Chenle didn’t believe in going backward, and so he kept his sights set on the very top step, hidden by bright light and whipping winds. They could make it, they were strong enough. 

Together. They’d make it together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> And, scene! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who read, commented, left kudos, and shared this story on Twitter and Tumblr. You are absolutely God sent, and I can not begin to put into words how much I appreciate every single one of you. I won't go into too much because this story is far from over, but this is a big milestone. This is the end of Part 1. 
> 
> For any of you concerned by Jeno's lack of a defined ending to his arc, that is because it is not over. Everyone still has work and it will take time, but we will get there. Chenle's life goal is to see the group held together, and I intend to carry this through as the basis of the entire story.
> 
> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


	12. PART II: Lies in Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know you’re scared, but this is it,” Jisung said, taking both of Chenle’s hands and squeezing them tight. “After today, you have ten days of recovery, three weeks of chemo, and then your trach comes out. You have an end date, Lele. You can do this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished moving. What an adventure that turned out to be! 
> 
> I took a lot of time to re-read the first part of this story, and I picked out the things I didn't like and worked very hard to improve on that. Personally, I've found I do not enjoy changing POVs. I actually had this chapter written quite a while ago, but it had a POV switch that made me insistent that the chapter "wasn't ready" because it simply didn't sound the way I wanted it to. It took a while for me to pin that as the issue, but I finally did. From this point on, I hope, there will be no massive shifts in single chapters. I still don't mind dedicating chapters to another character, but it'll be fewer and more far between. 
> 
> This begins part two, Hope. I'm looking forward to this part a lot. It's a nice middle ground I believe between the beginning and the end of something such as this, and I am cautiously optimistic that it will be received as well as part one. I've recieved a lot of comments on the earlier chapters, and a LOT of them are long and detailed (my favorites, please stop apologizing! I am never happier than when I get an in depth comment!) and I will be going through and responding. I just like knowing I have enough sit down time to be as in depth in my replies.
> 
> SONG PLAYLIST UPDATED:  
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2b1mFlfBa4bbW5peg0R4rq?si=Dgn07A-dQZilFGoaZAaqiA
> 
> (HOPE BY NATHAN WAGNER)

Chenle ran and flopped onto the top of his suitcase with a quiet _oof_, the wheels turning and carrying him a small way into the kitchen. Well, that wasn’t very fun. More power! Chenle hopped off and returned his suitcase to its original spot in the archway leading to the kitchen, socked feet sliding until the back of his legs touched the couch. He ran forward again, thumping against the suitcase with more power but _much_ less accuracy. 

“Ow,” He grumbled after he’d managed to flip his suitcase and collapse down beside it—less power. Less power was good. He pouted and lifted himself up, righting his suitcase and replacing it again. Chenle grumbled about how people online seemed to have no trouble completing the trick, all while considering how hard it would be to add a spin to the slide.

No time like the present, so off he went again. He put the same amount of power into his graceful flop but paid more attention to where he was placing his body, successfully managing to slide all the way into the kitchen. 

He’d managed to go so far he crashed into the kitchen counters with both his head and left shoulder with a loud _crash_. Acknowledging his dip into irresponsibility, and trying to hide a wince at the pain, he still allowed himself to feel pride. At least he did it. With a satisfied feeling blooming in his chest, he went to stand up. He wobbled a bit as his shoulder gave a tug of resistance, losing hold of his suitcase. The cheap plastic limply collapsed onto its front with a thump, and Chenle was left to awkwardly stand with his hand balled into a fist and a slight twinge of disappointment.

At least he wasn’t _on_ the suitcase that time. 

“Having fun?” Chenle looked up to see Jisung standing amused in the archway. Chenle giggled and nodded, brushing crumbs from the kitchen floor off his clothes. 

“Yep! What do you think?” Chenle asked, looking back at his suitcase. One of the wheels was still turning slowly, but Chenle didn’t pay it any more attention than he had to. He simply looked back up and smiled widely at Jisung, getting a fond smile, and a soft shake of the head in response. 

“If I told you I think you should go get ready to leave, would you listen?” Jisung asked, not even a little surprised when Chenle shook his head and pushed his suitcase back to the archway. In a last-ditch effort to distract, Chenle shot up and planted a kiss on Jisung’s lips, pulling back with a sultry smile. “Oh, quit.” Jisung chuffed, waving Chenle off. 

“What?” Chenle asked, throwing a leg over his suitcase so he could properly use it as a means of transport. He used his feet to push himself around the hardwood floors, ignoring how Jisung was staring knowingly at him. 

“Chenle, we have to go,” Jisung sighed. Chenle tried to keep the smile from slipping off his face. He’d been dreading the dawn of this day ever since his doctor had presented him with the copious amounts of paperwork detailing the comings and goings of it. It was today that Chenle would know whether his fight had been worth it. Whether all he had suffered had been a vain attempt at a life not meant for him. 

Feeling overwhelmed, Chenle tried to joke, saying, “We don’t have to do anything! Free will, Jisungie,” Chenle used his feet to push him backward, the wheels rolling until his back hit one of the dining chairs at the table. The pain still shocked him. The way it moved through his spine down to his feet. It didn’t take much these days, nothing more than knocking an elbow or tapping his spine. He still insistently did not let his face give away anything but mocking enthusiasm. 

“Okay, but Renjun also has the free will to wrestle you down the stairs kicking and screaming,” Jisung pointed out. Chenle shrugged and frowned pettishly, his foot kicking at the tile below him. Jisung traced the movement with a curious eye. 

Wanting to keep Jisung’s inquisitive gaze off anything that could tip him over into genuine worry, Chenle said, “Whose side are you on? I knew I shouldn’t have been pleased when you two started hanging out more! He's not even here anyway.” He looked down, pretending to pout into the floor. To Chenle’s utmost surprise, Jisung did not instantly scramble to apologize or refute the statement. It wasn’t a need or a want of his, but the lack of it was peculiar still. 

After a few more hits of Chenle’s back to the innocent chair and only one minuscule wince from the ache that had begun to settle, Jisung sighed and walked forward, kneeling down until he was eye level with Chenle. 

“I know you’re scared, but this is it,” Jisung said, taking both of Chenle’s hands and squeezing them tight. “After today, you have ten days of recovery, three weeks of chemo, and then your trach comes out. You have an end date, Lele. You can do this.” 

Chenle stared into his boyfriend’s eyes for only a moment. He couldn’t bear to see the hope in them. It reminded him of an unlucky animal, perhaps a frog or bird that had not yet realized the solid ground they were trodding on was not solid at all. They'd found a patch of quicksand or wet concrete, and all it took was a misstep or a bit of time before they were trapped forever. Left without help as they sunk beneath the surface or remained stuck at the knees, unable to free themselves before the elements took them away. 

Knowing that voicing his morbid thoughts would lead to a conversation he didn’t want to have, he instead said, “But I just came back.” It had been wonderful being with his friends instead of cooped up in that dark hospital room with five different nurses he never learned the names of. It was a genuine concern, so the lingering guilt bubbling in the pit of his stomach was wholly unwarranted, in his opinion. Even if it wasn’t the most pressing issue, he’d still meant to talk to Jisung about it. 

“And you’ll be back again,” Jisung soothed, twirling Chenle’s wig with his pointer finger. Chenle still felt dirty. He tried to distract himself, thinking of how it had felt once upon a time when someone played with his real hair. How soothing it was. How the sensation running up and down his spine was a soft, innocent pleasure rather than stinging pains. “But, when you come back next time, it’ll be for good. Right?” Jisung asked, trying to inject all of his own confidence into his boyfriend. It didn’t work. Nothing in this scenario would ever be for good, and Chenle knew deep in his subconscious. It battered him nightly like torrential rain on a metal roof. No, on the inside, it didn’t work. On the outside, however, it worked marvelously. 

Chenle shot up out of his chair with a large, fake it ‘til you make it smile, and turned to grab his suitcase. 

“Hurry up, before Renjun kicks you into next week!” Chenle teased, screaming shrilly as Jisung chased him out the door, not bothering to turn around and make sure the door was shut. They hopped down the stairs, laughing and somehow appearing giddier than what they were. 

Chenle crashed into the car and ripped the door open, climbing over Jaemin without a single care to the other man’s comfort. Jaemin simply put his phone up higher, trying his absolute best to not get killed again. Chenle thought he should apologize, but thought better of doing it while he was still giggling openly. It wouldn't come off as very genuine.

“I forgot my suitcase!” Chenle yelled out as Jisung tried to get into the car through the opposite door. Jisung glared and grumbled about carelessness and making him do all the work before turning around, jogging back inside to grab it. “What are you going to get up to today, hyung?” Chenle panted, pulling his seatbelt on and sending a bright smile to their manager. Exasperated as ever, but he simply grinned and went back to scrolling through his phone. 

“Probably more games of telephone and coloring butterflies,” Jaemin responded dully, but Chenle could tell it wasn’t genuine. If it was, Jaemin wouldn’t have cared that a minion was slowly chipping away at his health, especially not enough to whine and kick his feet like an upset toddler. “_Why-y-y?_” Jaemin cried, collapsing limply against the seat. Chenle giggled and turned his attention to Jisung, panting and cocking his head as he tossed Chenle’s suitcase into the trunk with Jaemin’s backpack. 

Jisung pulled the door open to the back seat and shoved Chenle into the middle, plopping down dramatically. “All the work you make me do!” Jisung whined, pulling his seatbelt on and lowering his head to the window. Chenle laid his head on Jisung’s arm happily, snuggling into the rough texture that made up Jisung’s denim jacket.

“Are we ready?” Their manager asked.

“I have never been more excited to color butterflies in my entire _life,_” Jaemin said, getting quite a few chuckles out of his companions. 

“Chenle?” Their manager asked. Chenle nodded and gave him a thumbs up. The man nodded and pressed the ignition button, saying, “Let’s go get this over with.” 

The drive was silent. Jisung’s hand wrapped comfortingly around Chenle’s as the car bounced through frequent dips and bumps. The shops lining the streets seemed to be doing good business despite the early hour on an unassuming Tuesday. Chenle watched from far away as a little girl sipped at an icy blue drink while her mother buried herself in her phone, flying fingers coming into focus as they passed, leaving the family behind. Chenle peeked over at Jaemin, expecting to see a similar sight, only to be greeted with him fast asleep against the window. 

Hot and muggy as it was, they passed large groups of people clad in tight black jeans and even some in long sleeves and sweaters. Chenle himself was dressed in a wool black and white striped jumper with the skinny black jeans to boot. Still, the thought that he had no choice but to wear the unseasonal outfit dampened the fondness at seeing others doing the same. He fussed with the sleeve of his jumper and wondered whether anyone else was cold in the unbearable heat so unusual for early October. 

In the deepest recesses of his memory, a vision of Jaemin with mangled arms flashed before Chenle's eyes. He had to bend over to negate the impact. Jaemin, clad in a sweatshirt so large it had no doubt been made for mid-January, also had an undeniable reason to dress so unseasonably warm. Chenle fell back against the seat and nervously shifted to lay his head against Jaemin's shoulder. When Jaemin didn't move to push him away, Chenle settled fully. Perhaps it was because he was too deep in sleep, but Jaemin allowed Chenle to stay settled against him until they only had five more minutes left of their trip. Even Renjun, who had vanished at some point that morning with Jeno and Mark in tow, could not get Jaemin to settle for so long. He missed the skinship Jaemin had so freely given before _this. _Before Chenle wrecked what they'd built together.

Feeling angry, betrayed tears biting behind his eyes, Chenle allowed them to close. Jisung's hand began to rub soothingly up and down Chenle's arms, back, and neck, and still, no part of Chenle could care that he had shown vulnerability. Jaemin needed love and comfort more than he did. Chenle didn't need, or at the very least didn't deserve, Jisung comforting him through his anger. That didn't mean he didn't crave the closeness. 

Feeling even more upset with himself and far more isolated, Chenle relaxed into Jaemin's stiff shoulder and did his best to nod off. One second he was knocking his head into Jaemin's bony shoulder, and the next, he was standing outside their dorm's front door. His shaky hand continuously failed to twist the knob enough the door could be opened, but the screams and sobbing behind had Chenle becoming more and more frantic. Over and over, his had slipped and collapsed down by his side, each attempt making him weaker and weaker. 

"Jaemin!" He heard someone yell, and as he ripped his hand up to try the doorknob again, he looked down to see nothing but bones. He shrieked and stumbled, pulling his other hand up and watching as the skin and muscle evaporated, leaving nothing but a skeletal version of himself behind. He turned on his heels and stopped dead. He was no longer in front of the dorm, but in a vast, moonlit field covered in dying, brown grass and splotches of red. Chenle stepped forward, the crunch of the grass less pronounced in the places where the red had long soaked through. It only took a few steps before he found something lying in a pool of the contrasting color.

"Hello?" Chenle said, expecting a response but getting none. He walked around the figure and knelt down, his body a live wire as he took in the greying face of Jaemin. It felt as if he was struck by lightning--his whole body shaking and heart pounding so hard it echoed around the empty space. Chenle blinked, and it was no longer Jaemin's face he was looking at. His knees collapsed underneath him as he stared at Jisung's blank, open eyes, nose, and mouth still steadily dripping blood. "_No,_" Chenle sobbed, reaching out to touch Jisung's face, but his hand passed through him like a specter. 

"I tried," A voice said, and Chenle turned to see their manager standing over him. "I did. He was too weak." 

Anger boiled in Chenle's veins. Weak would never be a word he'd use to describe Park Jisung, dead or not. He stood to argue, but before he could say a word, he shot up off Jaemin's shoulder. He sat still for a long time, just trying to get his breathing under control. He was still angry. Blood-boiling, overwhelming anger at the man who dared call Jisung weak as he lay in that field, so far gone that his face had greyed and his fingers and lips purpled. 

"Chenle?" Jisung asked, pulling his earphones off to look at him. Chenle shook his head and waved his boyfriend off. 

"Just a bad dream," Chenle said, honest for the first time in recent memory. Jisung pulled him close but didn't say anything for the rest of the trip. 

They rolled up to the hospital entrance ten minutes later. Jisung wacked Jaemin to rouse him from his sleep, making Jaemin let out an uncharacteristic snort as he came to. Chenle watched as Jaemin’s lips smacked, and his eyes slowly lost their sleepy haze as he blinked, yawned, and stretched. Before Chenle could pull his gaze away, Jaemin was tumbling out of his side of the car and grabbing his backpack. Without even a look behind him, he made his way to the hospital entrance and walked inside. 

“Come on, Lele, it’s too hot for you to be sitting out here without the air,” Jisung said, looking particularly disheveled with his hair sticking up like a bird’s nest not entirely built to completion. Chenle shuffled out of the car without acknowledging the irony of the statement. He was far too busy wondering whether Jisung would collapse under the weight of his own anxiety before getting through the front door. 

“Hey, breathe,” Chenle said. Jisung paused as he dropped Chenle’s suitcase onto the ground. He took a breath far too big to be real, but it seemed to slow the shaking in his hands regardless of its genuineness. 

Jisung steeled himself with a tight-lipped nod. He pulled his own backpack onto his back, grabbed Chenle’s suitcase, and turned to walk inside. Chenle waited with a teasing smile for Jisung to realize what he was forgetting. 

Jisung stumbled to a halt, turned a hundred and eighty degrees on his heels, and sped walked back to Chenle. Their hands intertwined as their feet moved to carry them toward the building again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> I know this is far shorter than my old chapters used to be, but something else I noticed is that chapters were spliced very...oddly. I would finish a thought, and then the chapter kept going, and the next thought wouldn't be finished, but the chapter was finished because it hit 5k words. I actually can't stand that and wish I could go back and re-split chapters, but I don't want to mess up readers. Maybe when it's complete? Anyway, shorter chapters, but longer parts. Hope that is okay with you all!
> 
> Ask me questions: https://curiouscat.qa/gypsyether


	13. PART II: Mediator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung fell asleep halfway through his thirteenth hour of waiting. 
> 
> He has three-hundred missed texts when he wakes up and about a tenth of that amount in missed calls, but he ignores them in favor of tossing his phone onto the empty chair beside him. The world isn't in flames, and Chenle isn't out of surgery yet, so there is no reason for him to jump on responding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to round...50, of me wishing I had written the entire story before posting it!
> 
> So, I've decided that 5k words per chapter is way, way, way too much. I considered going back and splicing all the chapters up, but there's so many comments that I really love and cherish and I don't want to mess them up by doing that. Instead, I'm just going to say that from now on, 2k will probably be the max number count for a lot of the chapters unless they're a super big deal (which, it does happen. soon. yikes). I hope you all understand. It's not that I don't want to write long chapters (because I do), I just find that I don't personally enjoy reading them all in one go, and I'd like for you to be able to read this wherever and not have to stop in the middle and lose your place and all that other fun stuff.

Jisung fell asleep halfway through his thirteenth hour of waiting. 

He had three-hundred missed texts when he woke up and about a tenth of that amount in missed calls, but he ignored them in favor of tossing his phone onto the empty chair beside him. The world wasn't in flames, and Chenle wasn't out of surgery yet, so there was no reason for him to jump on responding. Even their manager was sleeping in the seat across from Jisung; head tilted so far to the right Jisung winced in pain for him. 

Whoever decided to make one group chat per subunit, plus one for all of them, was going mad. Jisung was only a part of two groups, and his phone was about to vibrate right off the chair. 

He couldn't imagine what Mark was suffering through. 

He tried to nod off again, but he found it suddenly anxiety-inducing. The thought of falling asleep reminded him a bit too much of that _word_ he couldn't say, especially not when Chenle was teetering so close to the edge himself. He wondered how he became used to the idea of losing consciousness once every night, without any real idea of when it might happen or if he will ever wake up. 

His eyes shot open as he shivered. No, no more sleep for him. 

He grabbed his phone and unlocked it, thumbing through the most recent messages in the NCT group chat. It seemed to be the same people going back and forth, and to Jisung's surprise, none of them were really discussing Chenle at all. It looked more like Donghyuck and Johnny snagged a new game at its release and were spoiling it for the rest of the members through text. 

Of all the things Jisung didn't care about, video games weren't usually that high. That day, it was just about number one. 

He opened Dream's chat next and found a few messages asking whether everything was going well and if he was okay, and, occasionally, if Chenle was okay. Donghyuck seemed to be the most active in the chat. Jaemin and Jeno had to tell him more than a few times that Jisung wouldn't know how things were going even if he asked a hundred times.

Donghyuck was distracting himself, then. At least the overactive main group chat made sense. 

Jisung was just about to close out of his messenger app when another text popped up. His eyes widened, and he pulled it open immediately, completely surprised by the name that appeared. 

_Ten: Hey. Something's up with Jaemin. I know you're at the hospital, but I assume you've got some free time on your hands. If I'm wrong, you don't have to respond. _

Jisung felt a pang of something shoot through his chest at the mention of Jaemin. It made him feel like a shitty person instantly, so he typed back a reply and sent it before he could think any further.

_Jisung: Sure! What's up?_

Ten typed for so long, Jisung was terrified of the wall of text that would no doubt assault his screen. To his surprise, only a single sentence popped up in response. 

_Ten: Are he and Renjun having...issues?_

Jisung's face scrunched up at that. Issues? It was hard to pinpoint precisely what Ten meant by that. It seemed like Renjun and Jaemin were _always_ having problems. Ever since Jaemin started pushing Renjun away, their relationship had been rocky and turbulent. 

It was exhausting.

_Jisung: I mean, what do you mean by that? Not to air their dirty laundry, but they are always having issues…_

_Ten: idk. Jaemin came to my dorm today and seemed off. I kept trying to ask him what was up, and he said he just wanted to calm down._

That didn't seem abnormal for Jaemin. Jisung was about to say as much before another text came through. 

_Ten: I thought he was just having a bad moment, but then I realized that Renjun had been in Kun's room all morning. I mentioned it to Jaemin, and he acted like he couldn't hear me. He just started talking about something else. _

Jisung pondered this information for a minute. Probably long enough Ten had set his phone down, thinking he'd overstepped some silly boundary.

Disregarding his awkwardness with Ten, Jisung pulled himself back to the issue he'd been presented with. 

Jaemin and Renjun had not stopped skirting around each other ever since Jaemin came back from the hospital. It was like they simply couldn't stand each other anymore. Even the smallest things, the tiniest disagreements, all turned into snarky comments and backhanded replies. They argued over everything; from the exact shade of white their couch was to the millisecond someone woke up in the morning. 

_Jisung: they got into a fight this morning. Idk. i wasnt paying much attention. Renjun left before we did with Jeno and Mark. _

_Ten: did it have something to do with Chenle?_

There it was. Somehow it always rolled back around to Chenle. 

_Stop yelling! Chenle doesn't feel good, and he doesn't want to hear you screaming at each other!_

_Why are you wasting food? Chenle would kill to eat this._

_Quit taking so long in the bathroom. Chenle needs to take a shower. _

_Chenle wouldn't be sick right now if you had read the directions more carefully!_

_You should've known he has a fever!_

_It's your fault!_

Jisung snapped back to himself with a soft gasp. His heart was pounding, and he had to put his phone down to keep from dropping it. Your fault. _Your_ fault._ Your fault._ The words punched through his skull like a mantra. 

It wasn't his fault. He didn't know. Chenle asked him for space. Chenle deserved space too. 

His phone vibrated, and Jisung looked down to see two new received messages, both from Ten. Another quick glance told him he'd been ruminating on his past failures with Chenle for almost ten minutes. 

_Ten: You two are really close, that's the only reason I came to you. I didn't mean to overstep. _

_Ten: This is a bad time, isn't it? I'll talk to you later. Hold on, Jisung. _

Jisung sighed and ran a shaky hand over his eyes. 

_Jisung: Sorry, I got lost in thought, lol. You know me. Donghyuck has been talking about that new game, and I'm all over it. _

_Ten: haha, yeah. He hasn't stopped for a few hours! _

Jisung got the feeling Ten knew just as well as Jisung that Donghyuck was using the conversation as nothing more than a distraction, but it didn't matter. If Renjun was still at WayV's dorms, Jisung should be focusing on that. There were plenty of members to help Donghyuck if needed. 

_Jisung: anyway, yeah, it was about chenle. It usually is nowadays—that or whether or not the wall is shark grey or koala grey or whatever._

_Ten: …_

_Jisung: i know. _

_Ten: okay...well...in that case…_

_Jisung: yeah?_

_Ten: Renjun says he wants to stay here for the week. Just until Chenle comes home. Kun already asked our manager if it was okay, and he said Mark and Jeno are okay with it, so it shouldn't be a problem as long as he checks in. I thought I should make sure you're okay with it too. _

Was he okay with it? Jisung had to put his phone down again so he could consider it. It wasn't his choice regardless, but now two of his friends wanted to leave. They were meant to be in it together, rain or shine, for as long as the company allowed.

For all they knew, NCT Dream could be him, alone, with new trainees and no hyungs, at the end of the next year, and this would be how they spent it. Separated. 

No. Jisung wasn't okay with it. He wasn't okay with it at all. So, he pulled his phone up and responded. 

_Jisung: That's totally fine! I get it! Maybe some space will do them some good. _

He didn't look at Ten's response. He threw his phone down for good and crossed his arms tightly, resting them on his knees. His lips quivered and he sniffled, and the tears fell silently, only adding something heavy to the already oppressive stillness of the Oncology waiting room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> WARNINGS FOR UPCOMING CHAPTERS:
> 
> TEMPORARY character death.
> 
> Seriously. Temporary. I promise. I swear on my life blood that went into this story. It lasts like a paragraph. 
> 
> ALSO HI, rec me some whump Ten fics if you have any, because this poor guy has gotten himself far too wrapped up and is in for a treat. Ish. Not. Poor Ten. I just want to read them before I write them so I know how the fandom perceives his reaction to shitty situations.


	14. PART II: Self Sabotage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung screamed as he came to. 
> 
> Two bodies flung themselves away from him with startled shouts. Something glass crashed, a body hit the ground, and a lamp tilted and rolled before joining the glass in a pile on the floor. Jisung didn’t take even a moment to consider any of these. His mind was already back in the hospital, hearing those words replayed over and over again in his head. 
> 
> I’m sorry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> This chapter is a bit rough, so please take the time to read my warnings here;
> 
> 1\. Temporary(!) main character death.  
2\. Arguments.  
3\. Panic attacks. (Multiple)  
4\. Swearing.  
5\. Fainting.  
6\. False realism. (This likely would not happen in the real world, and if it did...law suit money!) 
> 
> Welcome to the most Medical drama (or just drama in general) chapter I have ever written in my entire life. I really enjoyed writing the fallout of something that probably wouldn't happen in real life but would so happen in a drama. They must have so much fun. I want to work on those. 
> 
> Poor Jisung.

It was a few hours of ignoring Ten later when the doors opened.

Jisung’s world stopped spinning when he saw the morose look on the doctor’s face. He stood shakily, hand grasping on the arm of his chair as if it would stop him from flying right off the Earth’s edge. The man looked down and refused to meet Jisung’s devastated gaze. The nurse beside him did the same. 

Their manager stood shakily. He stepped forward and stopped in front of the pair, hands up in a prayer’s stance. “Please,” Was all he managed to say.

“I’m sorry,” The doctor began, and it was all Jisung needed to hear. He collapsed onto his knees. He felt nothing. No impact, no jarring, no vibration. Nothing. The only thing left for him to feel was gravity attempting to suck his insides down into the very core of the planet. 

No one ran to him at that time. There was no one to do so. The only other people in the room had all witnessed this exact scenario at least once. Jisung had too. 

But it was never supposed to be him. 

“We can't restart his heart,” Was what the man said. Jisung shook his head violently. “I’m sorry.” Jisung threw his hands to his ears and pressed so hard he was sure his jaw cracked. He was breathing heavily. As if he’d just run ten miles without a break. 

Wide eyes, wheezing breaths, shaking hands. His world was ending. This is what it felt like when the sky began to fall. 

“No,” Jisung cried out, unable to hold it back. Finally, a few gazes turned to him. They were pitying gazes. Sad for the boy who lost his best friend, his _bandmate_. 

No one cared or even knew that Jisung had just lost his boyfriend. His soulmate. The one person Jisung trusted everything to, even if Chenle wasn’t aware yet. Chenle, with his tiny, shaking hands, that held all of Jisung together.

And now he was falling to pieces. 

“No!” Jisung screamed, pulling himself up and bolting toward the door. A pair of strong arms wrapped around him, but he didn’t care. He flailed in their hold, kicking and throwing his arms and tossing his head back just to make the person lose enough leverage, he could break free. Chenle wasn’t gone; he couldn’t be. He had to get to him. “Get off me! _Get off!_” 

“Jisung! Stop!” Their manager shouted into his ear, but Jisung only screamed back. It was a feral, wounded scream. Painful and raw. 

“Get off! Chenle! _Chenle!_” Jisung wailed, throwing himself down to the ground to break the hold their manager had on him. It worked, but only for a moment. Their manager lifted him up off the ground as if he weighed nothing, and maybe he did. Perhaps all of him really did get sucked into the molten core and burned until there was nothing left but hot, ashy remains. 

“Jisung, stop, or I’m going to carry you outside!” The manager threatened, but Jisung knew it was empty. He was crying, the nurse was crying, the old lady in the far corner was crying. 

He didn’t care. He just wanted Chenle. 

There was a beep coming from the vague direction of the doctor, but Jisung was too busy trying to deadweight himself to notice. He didn't, in fact, until the doctor and nurse bolted back through the doors at top speed, nearly barreling over several other healthcare workers on their way. 

Jisung stared and finally managed to make his entire body so limp his manager was hopeless to hold on, and he slithered to the ground like a snake covered in butter. He laid sobbing for what could have been days, and then something happened, and their manager was on the ground with him. He was weeping openly, bowing down until his head was touching the floor, and Jisung shakily pushed himself up to try and understand the gesture.

Chenle was dead. They had nothing to be thanked for. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” Their manager sobbed, and Jisung looked pleadingly at both him and a new healthcare worker he hadn’t yet met. “Oh, Jisung. It’s okay.” Their manager threw himself at Jisung and hugged him tightly. Jisung was frozen in confusion, but he returned the hug as well as he could. 

“You can’t go into his room, but you’re welcome to see him from outside the window,” The woman said. Jisung’s brain wasn’t fast enough to catch up, but their manager was up and ready to go. Jisung’s limbs flopped lifelessly to the ground. Everyone was staring at him.

“They got his heart going, Jisung. Don’t you want to see?” Their manager said, grabbing at Jisung’s arm and hoisting him up. 

Jisung looked into his manager’s eyes and blinked, once, twice, before everything went black and he hit the ground. 

  
Jisung screamed as he came to. 

Two bodies flung themselves away from him with startled shouts. Something glass crashed, a body hit the ground, and a lamp tilted and rolled before joining the glass in a pile on the floor. Jisung didn’t take even a moment to consider any of these. His mind was already back in the hospital, hearing those words replayed over and over again in his head. 

_I’m sorry. _

Those words were worse than _your fault_. He would take the blame for everything if Chenle would just wake up.

“Jisung!” Someone was yelling at him. “Jisung, stop screaming! You’re okay!” 

He hadn’t realized he was still screaming, but it was befitting of his mental state. 

“Chenle!” Jisung screamed instead, hoping that the person would be more satisfied if the loud noise was at least words. 

“He’s okay. He’s okay, Jisung. Breathe,” Renjun’s face entered his vision, and suddenly he remembered the conversation with Ten. 

Renjun, Jeno, Jaemin, and Chenle were all going to leave him. He was going to be alone. 

“Jisungie, take a breath for hyung. You’re safe. Look, look at me,” A voice said, and Jisung turned to see Jaemin sitting next to him. Jaemin pulled Jisung’s hand to his chest and held it there, and it was solid and moving with labored breaths, but it didn’t help. 

“Chenle,” Jisung sobbed. He began to wonder whether he could make it to the door without being caught. Renjun wasn’t swift, but Jaemin was, and what if Jeno was on the other side of the door? Jisung could run, but he couldn’t outrun Jeno. 

“Is breathing. His heart is beating. He’s alive,” Renjun said. Jisung shook his head frantically.

“Why? Why did they say--?” Jisung asked, and Renjun looked at Jaemin with a sour expression before looking back at Jisung.

“Because he’s an incompetent moron who should’ve never graduated high school, let alone medical school,” Renjun sounded more malicious than Jisung had ever heard him, and somehow it was a comfort. 

“He made a mistake!” Jaemin argued, and suddenly Jisung wasn’t so comfortable anymore. 

“A mistake? A mistake is forgetting eggs at the grocery store. A mistake is not calling time of death and telling his family before being absolutely, one-hundred percent sure!” Renjun shouted, and Jisung could feel his lips quivering. 

Jisung saw Jaemin go to throw something back, so he pulled his fists to his eyes and sobbed as quietly as he could manage, but the effort to be silent made it so he wasn’t able to take a breath. He was stuck on an exhale, he couldn’t pull any air in, and he started to panic. He shook violently before Jaemin hit him in the back, and he pulled air into his lungs like a vacuum. He sobbed so loud he was sure he could be heard from upstairs. 

“I’m sorry. Jisung, hyung is so sorry,” Renjun sounded so guilty. Like he was teetering on the edge of tears himself. 

Jisung wanted to run. He wasn’t sure where, but being trapped between two trick candles ready to relight wasn’t where he wanted to be. He shoved himself up out of bed and dodged as both Renjun and Jaemin reached for him. 

He stumbled into the living room and looked around. Jeno was staring at him worriedly, but Jisung couldn’t see the Jeno standing in front of him. All he could see was a blurry image of Jeno packing his bags and walking out the door to return home to his family. 

Jisung turned and tried to make it to the door, but Mark was blocking his way before he’d even wrapped his hand around the doorknob.

Once again, Jisung could only see as Mark said his goodbyes before walking out, leaving Dream behind seemingly for good. And even though Jeno was a vision of a future that had not yet come to pass, Mark was not. He had really left. He was no longer a member of Dream. 

“Jisung?” Mark said, and Jisung wanted to shove him away, but he didn’t, because he was still rational enough to know Jeno was still hovering close by. He could outrun Mark, but not Jeno. “Where are you going?”

Jisung realized he didn’t know. 

“I-” Jisung faltered. Mark smiled with a quick nod. 

“You’re not dressed, so why don’t we just go sit on the couch?” Mark suggested, pointing to the glaring lack of a shirt and shoes on Jisung. He was about to ask why he was so naked when he saw a litany of bandages over his chest.   
  
Jeno, seeing his confusion, said, “You scratched yourself up pretty good.” He went to put a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, but Jisung jumped away, making Jeno flinch. “Oh, Jisungie.” Jeno’s heart was broken, but Jisung couldn’t comfort him. He didn’t want to be touched. 

“Let’s give him some space,” Mark said as if Jisung wasn’t standing right in front of him. “You know what Yuta said.” Jeno just hummed, looked at Jisung, and walked away. 

“I want to see him,” Jisung said, ignoring the hurt radiating off of Jeno’s very being. Mark smiled sadly and moved to sit on the couch. Jisung didn’t move. 

“It’s three am. Visiting hours are over,” Mark said. Jisung clenched his fists angrily and just barely managed to stop himself from stomping the ground like a child. 

“Not allowed in any way. I’ll stand outside,” Jisung said. He turned and grabbed a hoodie, pulling it on without bothering to don a shirt beneath. He went to slip on a pair of shoes before Jaemin was tearing out of the room he and Jisung shared. He didn’t look at any of them before he slipped on his shoes only halfway and pulled the door open. Jisung flinched as the door slammed, and he could see out of his periphery that he wasn’t the only one. 

“I guess I’ll go check on Jaemin,” Jisung said, just for the excuse to leave. He had absolutely no intention of actually checking up on Jaemin, but if it meant he wouldn’t be followed, all was good for him. 

He opened and closed the door much softer than Jaemin had. So quietly, in fact, the conversation happening on the floor below continued in hushed voices. Jisung wasn’t a fan of eavesdropping, but Jaemin sounded so unlike himself that Jisung had to listen. 

“We just aren’t compatible, obviously,” Jaemin said, and someone scoffed and giggled. 

It was Ten that responded, “Seriously? You were for years. I know I don’t need to ask why the sudden change, but really, Jaemin. The wall colors are too much for your relationship to handle?”

Jisung flinched. 

“Jisung talked to you,” Jaemin sounded so malicious that Jisung took an unconscious step back. He knew that was coming. “Well it makes sense now why they’re so close. Always meddling in other people’s shit.”

Anger flared through Jisung’s chest, but he gritted his teeth and kept still and quiet. 

“Renjun saved your life,” Ten bit, and Jaemin guffawed. 

“Is that why he has Jisung running to you every time there’s a problem?”

Ten butts in, “_I_ messaged him.” For some reason, Ten saying that seemed like the worst possible scenario. 

Jaemin was silent for a long time before confirming Jisung’s doubt. Jaemin said, breathy and disbelieving, “You’re just like them.”

“What? Because I care about you? Because I don’t want you ruining all of your relationships when I know for a damn fact you aren’t thinking straight?” Ten said. “Look, I get it. Maybe not in the same way, but I did the exact same shit with Sicheng, Yuta, and Taeyong back when I was in NCT U. I villainized them for trying to help. I damaged really, really good friendships.”

“You’re just like everyone else!” Jaemin yelled, and Jisung could hear the hint of hysteria in Jaemin’s words. “You don’t understand! I _hate_ when people say that!” 

“I care about you!” Ten yelled right back. Jisung startled. Ten never yelled. “I know you can’t see it, but we’re trying to help you.”

“I don’t want your help! I just wanted you to sit next to me while you drew on your iPad. I just wanted you to exist beside me because you were the only solid thing I’ve had in _months_, and it was because you didn’t try to help me. You didn’t lecture me. You didn’t even talk about it. You were just there,” Jaemin was crying. Ten took a moment before responding. 

“I was always trying to help you. That first day I invited you to draw with me was me trying to help you. I know you think I’m some outsider to this situation, but I’m not. I love Chenle,” Ten’s voice broke. “I lived with you for years. He’s just as much a part of me as my own members. One day he will be one of my members--”

“I didn’t come here to argue,” Jaemin said, cutting Ten off. 

“Then, why are you?” Ten challenged, and Jaemin scoffed. Hearing the lull in the conversation, Jisung tiptoed forward so he could take enough steps down to peer at the two. 

Ten looked tense and defensive, while Jaemin mirrored the stance with tears added into the mix. Obviously, neither of them had a stronghold in the argument, and both were going to lose one way or another.

Suddenly, Jaemin’s mouth quivered, and he clenched his fists. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?” 

Ten’s mouth dropped in disbelief. Jisung’s did too. 

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that? There’s no way I heard you right,” Ten said, and Jaemin bit his lip hard before continuing. 

“You think you’re better than me. Than everyone. What, so you went through some horrible times 'just like me' and lost some friends? That’s sad, but you got them back. I won’t. I can’t fix this—nothing I do fixes anything. You’re just you, and you can do anything, right? Now that you’ve got everything together, you can go fixing the people who don’t? Because you know how everyone feels and how to make it all better?”

“_Na Jaemin!_” Ten sounded furious, but the hurt was draping him like a cloak. “When you came out, _I’m_ the one that told you that being you wasn’t wrong! _I’m_ the one that told you that what your parents did was vile and disgusting and that you didn’t deserve it. _I’m_ the one that told you that you could ask me anything and I would help you because _I’ve been there_. I’m not flaunting my ability to fix shit, Jaemin. I’m just trying to give you hope.”

“I don’t need your bullshit hope. Go fix someone else,” Jaemin said. Ten was shaking when he nodded and turned on his heels, opening the door to WayV’s dorm and slamming it shut behind him. 

Jaemin sobbed violently as he turned to come back up the stairs. Jisung threw himself behind the door to the storage closets and just narrowly avoided being spotted. Jaemin stopped just shy of the door and covered his mouth with his hand, breathing heavily in and out. He turned and slid down the wall, his bottom hitting the floor silently. 

Jisung watched longingly, wishing that he had never come out in the first place. Maybe he could’ve heard Jaemin hit the wall and come out to help. 

A dark part of him said that he wouldn’t have come out had he not heard what he’d just heard. No matter how wrong Jaemin was, it was all self-sabotage. Jaemin was hurting others, but the one who had nothing left to fall back on was him. Ten likely went inside and fell into the arms of one of his members. Jaemin was sobbing outside his dorm because he felt like he wasn’t welcome there anymore. 

Jisung couldn’t breathe. It was all too much. Jaemin and Renjun, Jeno and Mark, Ten...Chenle. He felt solely responsible for everything that was going wrong with them. If he had just been better at taking care of Chenle, none of them would be falling apart. If he had only known Chenle’s asthma wasn’t asthma, maybe they would’ve caught his cancer sooner, and Jaemin would’ve never tried to kill himself. He and Renjun would’ve never broken apart. Ten would’ve never been dragged into it. Jeno wouldn’t want to go home. 

Maybe Chenle wouldn’t have died, even if it had only been a minuscule fraction of the time he had lived.

Jisung was hyperventilating. The room was getting smaller and dimmer the more he allowed himself to spiral down. He felt dizzy and sick, so to avoid more unnecessary bruising, he laid himself down on the ground, head pillowed atop his shaking hands. He tried to tap his fingers on the floor to bring himself back, but it didn't work. He tried to tell himself he was okay, but it didn't work. 

He felt like he was dying, and it made him think of Chenle. It made him think of the hospital.

_I’m sorry._

_Your fault. _

_Fix someone else. _

_Slam! _

Jisung closed his eyes. 


	15. PART II: Full Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Panic attacks  
2\. Unintentional (?) self harm  
3\. Lying? Is that a tag worthy thing?
> 
> Well, it is our Lee Donghyuck's turn to get his time to shine. Poor guy. BUT, I do have some happy news! This is the beginning of the end of all the drama and heartache for part 2 of this story. All of the remaining chapters are much more hopeful and light. The next one is actually the one I've been waiting for since all of the issues with Jaemin began.

“I swear, I haven’t seen him!”

“He went to check on you!”

“Well, then he must be around here somewhere because he never came down the stairs.”

Jisung groaned. His head was killing him. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the way his limbs locked and refused to straighten. It seemed like everything was falling apart anyway; there was no use in adding more to the pot when he knew he could stretch it out later. 

He pulled the door leading to the storage closets open and came face to face with a hysterical looking Taeyong. His mouth fell open, Jaemin’s mouth fell open. It was comical. Jisung wanted to laugh, but his jaw protested the movement. 

“Have you been in there this whole time?” Taeyong was a bit breathless when he asked. Jisung just nodded. 

“We’ve been looking for you for ten minutes,” Taeyong sighed, running a hand over his eyes. If Jisung was losing his mind, he wondered if Taeyong was faring any better. Probably not. 

“Sorry. I just wanted to be alone. I must’ve nodded off,” Jisung lied, and it seemed to be readily believed. He must be quite the sight, but maybe he was just disheveled enough to make it seem like he’d taken an exhausted person’s nap. 

“Next time just,” Taeyong let out a shaky breath, and Jisung felt the guilt rise. The more awake Jisung became, the more he saw on Taeyong. The fear. The worry. The guilt. The relief. “Just tell them where you’re really going.”

Jisung felt dirty, but he held firm to his lie and said, “I will. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Taeyong said, but it didn’t seem okay. His lips were quivering, and his eyes had quickly watered and turned red. 

“Hyung,” Jisung said, and Taeyong held a hand up and turned away, clenching his eyes closed. The tears came anyway. 

“I’m sorry, Jisungie, Jaemin. This is silly. You were sitting in the closets. You were fine. I don’t know why I feel this way,” Taeyong tried to laugh. He turned his eyes to the sky and opened them wide, but the feeling clearly didn’t ebb. He pulled his chin down to his chest and sniffled, another stray tear falling. 

Jisung wanted to tell him that he wasn’t okay. He wanted Taeyong to hold him close and say to him that he would be okay, even if he wasn’t right then. But he couldn’t. He’d already scared Renjun and Jaemin. Their manager. Jeno and Mark. He couldn’t add more to Taeyong. 

“I uh--” Jisung didn’t know what to say, but he knew he didn’t want to stand out in the hall watching his hyung cry over him anymore. “Do you think Haechan-hyung is still up? I wanted to play that new game with him.”

Taeyong let out the most sorrowful, pained laugh Jisung had ever heard. Somehow, even with that undertone, Jisung could feel the laugh’s genuineness. “Yes. He was still going when I left. Call him up.”

“I will. Thank you. I’m sorry again. I really wasn’t thinking,” Jisung said, bowing to his hyungs and turning to walk away. He could feel two pairs of eyes on his back, but he didn’t turn around. He could only hear as Taeyong let out a relieved sigh and another chuckle, and Jisung knew at that moment that he had done the right thing.

  
“Ya! Can you at least try not to cut me off?” Jisung whined as Donghyuck once again intercepted one of his shots. 

“Sorry, baby, but you’re in my way,” Donghyuck responded with a teasing tone, and Jisung could only roll his eyes. One day he was going to get the older members to stop calling him a baby. 

It had been two hours since the hallway incident, as he would likely call it. Ten had messaged him three times, and Jisung had flatly ignored them the second he saw the first message.

_Ten: I saw you in the hallway. Are you okay?_

It wasn’t that Jisung was too ashamed or embarrassed at being caught to respond; it was more like he felt Ten needed space. It was him that had been hurt in the whole thing, not Jisung. Ten was right; he wasn’t an outlier in the situation, and treating him as one was probably what led to his outburst. There was no point in adding Jisung’s own feelings onto Ten when he was the one suffering the most for it. 

Once their game was done, Jisung reluctantly lifted his phone to check for any messages about Chenle. Doing this, as he knew it would, opened the messages from Ten. 

_Ten: I know you read that. You still have read receipts on. _

_Ten: I’m sorry, Jisung. I know I should be a better older brother. I shouldn’t have yelled at Jaemin. Just let me know you’re okay. Kun said Renjun told him that you bolted out, and no one could find you for fifteen minutes, and that was only after they started looking. _

Jisung scratched his neck at the second message. Well, if there was one way to make sure someone knew you were ignoring them, leaving read receipts on was a great way. He sighed and pulled the messages open in his messenger app and began to type, hoping that Ten hadn’t fallen asleep.

Or maybe hoping that he _had_ fallen asleep. 

_Jisung: Sorry, I was playing that game with Donghyuck. I’m fine! I was just shaken up when I woke up, and I needed some space. I didn’t intend to listen in. I’m sorry. _

Not thirty seconds later, a message popped up.

_Ten: That’s okay! Don’t apologize for needing space! And I know we were loud, so I get why you listened. I would’ve been curious too. -_- All of my members knew what was said word for word...I’m just glad you’re okay. Enjoy your game!_

That seemed to be the end of that. Once again, Jisung felt something lift off his shoulders. Obviously, he knew exactly what to say to unwrap the worry from around his members. 

I needed space. I was just shaken up. But I’m fine now!

Would that work forever? And on everyone? It didn’t matter, because it clearly worked on Ten and Taeyong. Renjun had even left him alone, and Donghyuck hadn’t so much as asked about what had happened. 

“You still there?” Donghyuck’s voice came through Jisung’s headphones. He placed his phone upside down on his desk and wiggled his mouse, accepting the game request from Donghyuck.

“Yep, sorry! Just got distracted,” Jisung said. 

“No worries! Let’s get this show on the road,” Donghyuck said, audibly rubbing his hands together. Jisung laughed, trying to make it sound believable. Donghyuck said nothing to the contrary. 

They played rounds until the sun was peeking over the horizon, and both of them had hit the point where they could no longer dance around each other. Donghyuck went quiet first, his actions sluggish, causing him to die more than Jisung could count on two hands. Jisung was next. Finally, both of them put their controllers down with a clack and sat in silence. 

“Can I go with you?” Donghyuck whispered, and Jisung tried to school himself. He could already feel the tears ready to fall. It didn’t work. The tears fell and fell and fell, and he was sniffling into the microphone. Donghyuck sighed. 

“Yes. You can go with me. Can you come up here, please?” Jisung asked, and the sound of Donghyuck clambering up out of his chair was loud in the otherwise oppressive silence of the room Jaemin should’ve been in with him. 

“On my way!” Donghyuck said, and the call cut. 

Jisung covered his mouth with a shaking hand and cried convulsively. He had been doing well, ignoring the pit in his stomach, but now all that dark, corrupted energy was seeping back through his body. He laid his hand down on the table and tapped rhythmically, and when that didn’t work, he did the same with his feet. When that didn’t work, he tried telling himself that he was safe. That Chenle was safe.

When that didn’t work, he crossed his arms and dug his nails hard into them. His whole body was alight, and with the pain came the release. Harder, he pressed, until he felt his skin give and blood trickle from the deepest of the cuts. He let go with a sigh, the pain only hitting him as he pulled his hands away. 

He felt better. He wasn’t supposed to feel better. Everything he’d ever read told him that hurting oneself did nothing but cause the hurt to come back at you tenfold once it was over. He was supposed to meditate. He was supposed to read. He was supposed to listen to music. 

It wasn’t right. Hurting himself wasn’t the answer.

He stood and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. He rushed around, grabbing toilet paper, hydrogen peroxide, and bandages from the cupboards. He sat atop the counter and opened the bottle of peroxide, pouring it over the cuts. It was a bit too frantic, and he ended up spilling more than he used, but it was okay. The burn was distracting him from anything else. 

He capped the bottle, put it away, then opened the bandages and placed them over the worst cuts. Now they were invisible. He couldn’t look at them and think that they somehow made him better. 

They didn’t. Look at Jaemin, he told himself. He shook his head and cleaned up his mess. Donghyuck was waiting for him on Jaemin’s bed once he walked out. 

“Hey!” Donghyuck said far too enthusiastically for his disheveled state. Jisung just smiled back and walked forward, falling into Donghyuck’s outstretched arms. 

It was clear that they both needed it. The hug started loose, but soon Donghyuck was wrapping his arms so tight around Jisung it made his shoulder pop uncomfortably. Jisung hugged him just as firmly back. 

They stood there from the time the sun was still just peeking over the horizon up to when it was fully visible in the early morning sky. Even then, they didn’t let go. Jisung was hugging Donghyuck as if he was the only thing left to keep him from falling. Jisung wondered if Donghyuck knew how precarious Jisung really was, or if he was simply holding on just as tight to save himself. Maybe they were both on a tightrope, and this moment was all that was keeping them alive.

“I love you, Jisungie,” Donghyuck sounded so broken. So exhausted. Nothing like the Donghyuck, the _Haechan_, that Jisung looked up to. 

“I love you, hyung,” Jisung responded, and Donghyuck held somehow even tighter. He was beginning to wonder if there would ever be a good time to let go. It felt like letting go now would shatter him. Like Donghyuck was connected so intimately with him, and if they pulled apart, their chests would rip open and leave them open and vulnerable. 

“Don’t leave me, yeah?” Donghyuck asked, and Jisung knew what Donghyuck was referring to without asking. His fingers were tracing delicately over the bandages on Jisung’s arms. “I’m here. I’m _here_. I’m right here.” 

“I know, hyung. I know,” Jisung cried. “I need help, but _everyone_ needs help."

“Stop. I love you. No one else matters. If you believe you can only come to me, then only come to me. One person is better than nothing, Jisung. I know we have twenty people, but I’m telling you right now that I will always be here for you,” Donghyuck said. “I can’t lose you, too. I know Chenle’s your person, but I also know you feel you can’t go to him. I know that sometimes you physically can’t. So come to me. Please, Jisung.” 

Jisung grabbed Donghyuck’s shirt in his fist and sobbed. This was the Donghyuck who had lost. The one who lost Jaemin. Who lost Renjun. Who was losing Chenle, and Jeno, and now Jisung? Jisung could see the similarities in both of them. The feeling that they were the only ones left to hold the rest of them up. 

And who was left for them?

“I’m here. I’m here, Jisung. Don’t go,” Donghyuck sounded breathless, and Jisung just nodded. He had nothing left to say. 

There was a knock on the door, and both of them pulled away. Donghyuck smiled so sadly, a hand dragging over Jisung’s cheek like it was something final. Jisung shook his head, wanting Donghyuck to know that this wasn’t it. That nothing would happen to him. 

Mark’s head poked through the door, and he said, “Hey. We can go see Chenle. Are you ready?” Donghyuck and Jisung nodded to each other and then to Mark. He pulled the door open more and motioned for them to step out. Jisung nodded to his hyung and stopped just shy of the living room, turning back to see Mark take Donghyuck’s hand and squeeze it. Jisung smiled and turned, leaving them to their moment. 

Well, maybe there were a few hands left to hold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> No warnings needed for the next chapter! Breathe easy!


	16. PART II: Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry, Lele,” Jisung said, unable to pull even a small lie out. Chenle just looked away and didn’t say anything else. 
> 
> It was the first time Jisung saw Chenle give up. The first time Chenle didn’t try to put a positive spin on the situation. Not even Chenle could talk himself out of his worry for Jaemin. 
> 
> “Jisung,” Chenle began, and Jisung gave him his full attention. It was rare, if not unheard of, for Chenle to call Jisung by only his given name. “Is it my fault?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, finally, finally. I wrote this in quick succession of the other chapters which isn't what I typically do, but this chapter finally felt right and ready, and most importantly, it felt needed. There hasn't been a lot of stake in Chenle's cancer itself, and that is intentional, but Jaemin has been such a precarious piece that's dangled a little out of reach. It finally felt like the pendulum stopped swinging enough to grasp it. 
> 
> I hope that all of you who have stuck with this story and suffered with him take a good, solid moment to breathe. The rest of Part II will be so much easier to handle. 
> 
> REMAINING PLOTS/WARNINGS FOR PART 2:
> 
> Warnings: (All of these are easily resolved as opposed to the 2 chapter + long drama we had before)
> 
> \- Vomiting, fevers, body tremors, fainting, panic attacks, blood (scraped knees, nothing crazy.) Probably some fallout from everyone thinking Chenle is still just Chenle despite everything, but that might be a part III thing, so don't get too nervous. 
> 
> \- Ridin' comeback and NCT Life will be main focuses, so the timeline of real life stuff is going to be changed. They're going to release Ridin' in January as opposed to April, and they're going to film NCT Life in February. I don't think anyone actually cares but if you do, it just makes Chenle's illness timeline much, much easier.

**One Week Later**

“The he-hare’s feet go hop and skip, The she-hare’s eyes are muddled and fuddled. Two hares running side by side close to the ground, How can they tell if I am he or she?” Jisung put his phone down on his knee, looking up to see Chenle smiling weakly at him. Jisung smiled right back, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight. 

“You--” Chenle’s words were drowned in a thick sloshing of saliva. “You studied for me.” 

Jisung smiled and nodded. He had been studying Chinese since the day he’d met Chenle. One of the first things he had ever tried to read on his own had been the Ballad of Mulan, a poem he vaguely knew most Chinese elementary students were required to recite by heart. Chenle would undoubtedly remember it, and he had hoped that he would be proud of Jisung for having learned it. 

“Did I do alright?” Jisung asked, looking for approval. Chenle smiled even wider and nodded as much as he could.

“So, so good. So smart. My Jisungie,” Chenle said, closing his eyes as he did so. 

“I haven’t been studying much, I admit. I’ve been playing games mostly,” Jisung rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, but Chenle just waved him off. 

“Too much. Don’t need,” Chenle said, and Jisung nodded a bit morose. It had been a long few weeks, and once again, it was left to Jisung to fill Chenle in. 

Not today. It was the first day Jisung was able to see Chenle without the pane of glass separating them, and he wasn’t going to waste it on things that should have been put to rest before they got to the point they did. 

“It’s almost time to start preparing for our next song. Break’s over,” Jisung sighed, and Chenle’s chest jumped in what one could assume was a chuckle. “Have to start doing real schoolwork again, too. I don’t know how I’m going to survive the next few months.”

“I’ll be there,” Chenle promised, squeezing Jisung’s hand. 

“I know. That will make it much easier,” Jisung said, running a gentle hand over Chenle’s forehead. “Almost there.”

“Almost there,” Chenle repeated. 

“I love you,” Jisung said, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling. How Chenle could stay so strong through all that he’d gone through was bizarre to Jisung. He had almost lost himself to his circumstances just like Jaemin, and yet Chenle was still…Chenle. 

“Love you. So much,” Chenle said, pulling Jisung’s hand up to press a dry, chaste kiss to it. He held the hand there, eyes trying to focus on something. Jisung knew what it was; he just didn’t want to acknowledge it. “No more?” Chenle was staring at the nail shaped scabs on Jisung’s arms. 

“No. There’s no more,” Jisung assured. “There will never be any more. I swear.” 

“It hurt?” Chenle asked, pulling his shaky hand up to rub soothingly over the scabs. Jisung turned his gaze to the sky. Always so caring. So selfless. Here he was, lying in a bed in the most pain he’d ever been in, and he was worried about marks on Jisung’s skin that were less than four centimeters long. 

“Only a little,” Jisung was honest. Chenle could see through him if he wasn’t, and he didn’t want to hurt him more by lying. 

Chenle tried to push himself up, and Jisung was quick to help him. He didn’t move very much, only enough he could pull his head comfortably off the bed without hurting his incision. He pulled Jisung’s arm to his lips and pressed more kisses there. One for each mark. “All better.” Chenle said. Jisung nodded, eyes watering.

“Yeah. All better. Thank you, _my love,_” Jisung said, kissing Chenle’s hands delicately. 

Now that they were on unstable ground, Chenle seemed to get a bit braver. He looked at Jisung nervously, mouth opening and closing a few times before he said, “Where is Jaemin?”

Jisung hissed despite himself. Jaemin had recently thrown himself back into dance. It was rare for any of the members to see him in the dorm, even if they didn’t have any new dances to practice. Over the past week, Jisung had stumbled upon him practicing Boom each day. They would catch eyes, Jaemin would stare for a long time, and then he’d turn away and press play on the track, effectively telling Jisung that he wasn’t welcome. He didn’t want to talk. 

Which was fine. Except it wasn’t, because that week Chenle wasn’t around. Now, he was, and Chenle wanted Jaemin with him. 

“I get it,” Chenle said when Jisung didn’t jump to respond. He looked devastated, and Jisung understood, but he loathed that look. He wanted to tell Chenle that Jaemin was just allowing Jisung more time to see him. That he was busy with school, but he’d be there. That he was intensely training for a solo schedule that he didn’t actually have, but would be a better explanation than Jaemin was trying to kill himself with dance instead of cuts. 

“I’m sorry, Lele,” Jisung said, unable to pull even a small lie out. Chenle just looked away and didn’t say anything else. 

It was the first time Jisung saw Chenle give up. The first time Chenle didn’t try to put a positive spin on the situation. Not even Chenle could talk himself out of his worry for Jaemin. 

“Jisung,” Chenle began, and Jisung gave him his full attention. It was rare, if not unheard of, for Chenle to call Jisung by only his given name. “Is it my fault?” 

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Zhong Chenle. No. _No,_ it’s not your fault. What makes you think that?”

“Didn’t start--” Chenle swallowed painfully. “Until this.” 

Jisung tried again not to be mad at Jaemin. It was getting impossible. He tried to remind himself that Jaemin was sick. He was just trying to regain control again, but it was hurting people in the process. Jisung repeated what he told himself when he overheard Jaemin and Ten in the hallway. Jaemin was hurting people, but the one left with nothing was him. He was only hurting himself in the long run. 

“It’s not your fault. Jaemin loves you. He’s just sick, Lele,” Jisung said. He had nothing else to say. 

“I can help,” Chenle said, playing with the nails on his left hand. They were getting long again. 

“Chenle--” Jisung began, but Chenle cut him off.

“I miss him,” Chenle had to take a breath. “I want him here. I can help.” Jisung sighed and shook his head. He didn’t know what to say. 

“Chenle, I don’t--” Jisung trailed off as the glass door behind him slid open. He looked up, and his breath stopped dead in his chest. 

Jaemin was walking through the door frame, head slowly pulling up from the ground. His hair was newly dyed, face freshly washed and absolutely glowing with the care. His clothes were baggy yet not unbefitting of the weather, and to Jisung’s surprise, Jaemin wasn’t wearing only black. To save his mind from believing in the cliche, he knew Jaemin wore the color to hide his figure, but it was amazing how much healthier he looked in pinks and whites. 

He looked like a different person. 

How could he have changed so much since Jisung saw him only twelve hours before?

“Hey,” Jaemin smiled without showing his teeth. He walked forward, taking up the seat on the opposite side of Jisung. Chenle’s eyes followed him the entire way. Jisung’s did too. “You look better. Healthy.” Jaemin grabbed Chenle’s hand and held it, squeezing it gently.

“Hyung?” Chenle whispered, and Jaemin nodded. He frowned and pulled himself up, settling himself next to Chenle on the bed. Jisung wondered whether or not he should leave. As much as he and Jaemin didn’t get along, Chenle still loved him. Jisung still loved him. If he wanted privacy to talk to Chenle, he would give him that, even if visiting hours ended in only half an hour and he wouldn't be able to return. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin’s voice broke. Chenle stared but didn’t say anything. “I should have been here last week. I just didn’t want you to see me how I was.” 

Chenle took a moment before saying, “Want you here. No matter what.”

Jaemin nodded and looked down. “I’ve been a bad friend. To all of you. I’m going to be here from now on, Chenle. I’m done running away,” Jaemin said, leaning down and hugging Chenle as gently as he could manage. Chenle was the one to pull him closer, arm wrapped tightly around Jaemin’s shoulders as he cried into the pillow behind Chenle’s back. 

“Some run when--” Deep breath. “They’re scared,” Chenle finished. Jaemin shook his head and pulled himself up.

“Not me. Not anymore. I need to be here for you,” Jaemin said, nodding to himself as if it was a reaffirmation. 

Chenle smiled but stared up at Jaemin with this all-knowing look. Both Jisung and Jaemin waited with bated breath to continue. “Renjun. Ten. Talk to them.” 

Jaemin and Jisung looked up and stared quizzically at each other. How did Chenle know?

“Renjun came. Very--very sad,” Chenle explained. “Jisung, too. Talk. Please.” Chenle added, motioning for the two of them. They dropped their gazes instantly. 

Chenle chuckled, “Babies, both of you. My babies.” 

“M’not a baby,” Jisung pouted on purpose, wanting to see Chenle laugh. It worked. He chuckled, but it was enough. It was enough just seeing some happiness. 

“Where are my butterflies?” Chenle asked, changing the subject. It broke the awkwardness like brittle glass, and Jaemin was smiling brightly as he grabbed his bag. He rustled around in it for a moment before pulling a piece of paper out and showing it to Chenle. 

It was simple, but the colors held meaning. Green, orange, pink, light brown. The colors of their hair when Chenle first began experiencing symptoms. Chenle smiled and took the paper, trying his best to study it through the shaking. He pulled it to his chest when he was done, hugging it tightly to him.

“I love it,” Chenle said. Jaemin smiled bashfully and looked down at his hands. 

“Those are for you. Always,” Jaemin admitted. Jisung stared at Jaemin with something akin to reverence. Jaemin had talked down on the butterflies ever since he started therapy. Had he really been making them for Chenle the whole time? And if he did, why did he act like it was such a burdensome task?

Chenle didn’t seem to mind this fact. Instead, he said, “Next time, Tiger. Courage.” 

“I’m not courageous,” Jaemin chuckled.

Chenle rolled his eyes. “You’re alive.” 

Jaemin looked nervously up at Jisung, only to see Jisung staring right back at him. Chenle was right. Jaemin was courageous, not only because he had been fighting to defeat the most complicated demon to fight, but also because he had already won. He was still breathing. He was still sitting next to them. 

The war was over. Now it was onward to smaller battles. 

“I want a tiger too, hyung. I’ll put it up on my desk, so whenever I’m getting close to losing a game, I can look at it,” Jisung tried to joke, and Jaemin smiled. Really, truly smiled. He nodded and zipped his bag back up. 

“Tiger it is! Tomorrow, okay?” Jaemin said. Chenle nodded happily. 

The conversation lulled, and Jaemin looked apprehensively up at the clock. They only had two minutes left before the nurses would start coming around telling people to pack up and get on the road, so they took the initiative and started getting ready themselves. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Lele,” Jisung said, leaning down and placing a kiss on Chenle’s lips. It was clear that Chenle wanted to hold him there longer, but they could hear the sound of visitors leaving, so Jisung was reluctantly let go. 

“See you tomorrow. I’ll try to finish my star jar too,” Jaemin said, pulling his bag up and over his head to rest on his shoulder. Chenle smiled and gave him a thumbs up. 

“Walk together,” Chenle said as they slid the door open. Both of them voiced their agreement. “And talk. Please.” 

Both Jaemin and Jisung smiled at him as they slid the door closed. They walked away side by side, neither of them sure what to say. 

“Wanna start from the beginning?” Jisung asked.

“Might as well.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> I realized all the way into writing NCT Dream Life chapters that I never had Renjun and Jaemin have a solid moment alone. (So think October all the way to February...yikes) I said when I started this part that I was no longer switching to POVs that are not Jisung and Chenle as they've always been intended to be the main characters, but I wonder if that leaves it hanging a bit uncomfortably. Would you mind more eavesdropping Jisung? Or Chenle? I almost feel like Chenle would do it, lol.


	17. PART II: Everything Is How It's Supposed To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a weird yet familiar feeling. They were family. Growing up, Jaemin was his person. The one he went to just to feel a modicum of the love and adoration he felt when he was at home. He felt small with Jaemin, but it wasn’t in a negative way. With him, Jisung could forget that he had responsibilities. That he was an adult before age dictated. That most boys weren’t supposed to cry, and it wasn’t very common for them to cuddle up with their hyung because the doors creaked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all of you for your comments and kudos. I know both have slowed down recently because I took so long off from updating this story, and perhaps the story isn't going the way a lot of people would have wanted, but for those who have stuck by me from day one to now, you can't imagine the gratefulness in my heart. Seeing the same names that I used to look forward to seeing so many months ago just floods me with so much love and happiness. 
> 
> I hope that you continue to stick by me. I cherish you so much!
> 
> Song; https://open.spotify.com/track/1FgAA9sK3ITTac3WNtYFNz?si=cCeQ4t8sTdey7ssYarc5xw

Sitting next to Jaemin, arms almost brushing, Jisung could tell this wouldn’t be easy. There was still something bitter and resentful between them. Even though Jaemin spent the whole hour-long detoured walk home spewing his guts, they were still only slightly more stable than before. 

Even then, Jisung could feel the difference between before and after like it was tangible and weighted. Jisung could phrase it no other way than this; he wanted Jaemin back. He wanted Jaemin to hold his hand, to run his fingers through his hair, to rub his back as he fell asleep. He wanted Jaemin to sit beside him and tell him how great he was as he failed another level in a game. He wanted Jaemin to show him where to place his buildings in Animal Crossing and which weapons to get in Fortnight. 

Jisung’s lip wobbled, and even with the oppressive, dark feeling between them, Jaemin wrapped his arms around Jisung’s shoulders and pulled him close. 

Jisung tried not to cry. He still didn’t feel overly comfortable with Jaemin seeing him vulnerable, especially when it might just be another thing that led to Jaemin’s own downward spiral. He couldn’t be responsible for anything more happening to his friend. _Friend..._The world felt odd. His brother. His older brother. The person who protected him, loved him, and treated him so gently and with so much overwhelming care. 

Jaemin sighed and began to sing, so soft that Jisung had to strain to hear. 

_“They say the world’s burning to the floor,_  
_Ashes falling down like rain._  
_That the people won’t take no more, _  
_The civil war is bound to break but I…”_

Jisung tried so hard to latch onto the voice. If there was anything about Jaemin untainted in Jisung’s mind, it was his singing voice. It was still something Jisung longed for, something he found himself calling out to when the nights were filled with monster shaped clothes piles and eye looking headlights. 

_“...sit here thinking is it,_  
_Worth my peace ‘cause these,_  
_Screens keep preaching, and I,_  
_Start to sink.”_

Come back. Come back. _Come back. _

Jisung mentally screamed, begging Jaemin to kick his legs and help them pull him back up. Begging him to untie the rope tying him damningly to the boulder pulling him farther and farther toward the ocean’s floor. 

_“Hope it feels so far away,_  
_That’s when I hear the angels say...”_

Jaemin faltered, and Jisung knew instantly why. His shattered faith, his inability to call upon a God he felt abandoned by. Jisung waited, letting Jaemin work through this block on his own. It was not his place to input his own feelings on the matter.

_“All is well.”_

Jaemin finished, and Jisung nodded his head resolutely into Jaemin’s shoulder. Yes. All was well. In that moment, wrapped in his older brother’s arms, everything was okay. He was safe. He was more loved than he could ever imagine. 

It was a weird yet familiar feeling. They were family. Growing up, Jaemin was his person. The one he went to just to feel a modicum of the love and adoration he felt when he was at home. He felt small with Jaemin, but it wasn’t in a negative way. With him, Jisung could forget that he had responsibilities. That he was an adult before age dictated. That most boys weren’t supposed to cry, and it wasn’t very common for them to cuddle up with their hyung because the doors creaked. 

Family didn’t abandon each other, and with that, Jisung allowed the resentful energy to flow back out into the universe. It wasn’t needed by him anymore.

Jaemin sighed, and Jisung thought he was going to go to sing again, but he said the lyrics instead, “Everything is how it’s supposed to be.”

Maybe that was true. Jisung wasn’t sure how the world worked, but he knew one thing, he wouldn’t trade his experiences for anything. Starting over would mean losing so much with Chenle. Even if he could go back only to when Chenle had started showing symptoms, he couldn’t bear to think of having to relive all those months. 

Chenle had said it first. If he had never been diagnosed, he would never have become who he was. He and Jisung would’ve never become what they were. 

Jaemin said, breaking the long pause, “I wouldn’t change it. I know it sucked, and I know the things I did were wrong; but, I understand things so much better now. I see things so much more clearly. I see people that I didn’t see before, and I understand situations that I always thought were black and white. It feels different now when I see someone cry on the side of the road. Or when I see someone throw away an entire meal at a restaurant. It’s not like a wish to fix them or help them; it’s just knowing what they’re going through. I can see people that aren’t my family and me as complex, real living beings.”

It sounded redundant, but Jisung tried to think of the random people he walked past on the street with as much complexity as he looked at himself. It was hard, and a bit of an eye-opener. It almost made Jisung laugh. The realization reminded him a lot of the time when he realized the Target logo was an actual Target, and Mark had laughed at him for five whole minutes. He had even called up Johnny to tell him about Jisung’s discovery, and then Johnny laughed at him too. 

“Do you want to watch something?” Jaemin said, grabbing at the remote on the other side of the couch. Jisung considered. It would be the most ordinary moment he’d had in recent memory if he agreed. If he didn’t, it would be another uncountable passage of time spent pondering his own existence and his relationships with Jaemin and Chenle.

“Yeah,” Jisung said, pulling the remote from him and picking the show without asking Jaemin for his input. Jaemin was looking at him with the most disgustingly fond surprised look Jisung had ever seen, and it was almost enough to make him roll his eyes. 

“Hey! What if I wanted to pick?” Jaemin asked, and Jisung laughed. Jaemin would’ve never denied him. 

“Well, I wanted to watch this,” Jisung responded, and Jaemin gave him a slap to the back of the head and settled in to watch the show. Before Jisung copied the movement and settled in himself, he did his best to look up into Jaemin’s face without actually showing that he was staring. 

Jaemin was smiling softly, his whole upper body shaking. His eyes were wet and red, but no tears fell. Jisung smiled too and turned back to the show, wrapping his arms and legs obnoxiously around Jaemin’s body just to hear him laugh. 

Halfway through the first episode, long enough for both Jaemin and Jisung to have fully relaxed into each other, Jisung pulled out his phone. Jaemin didn’t look down to inspect, and Jisung didn’t expect him to, so he pulled open his messages with Ten and typed something out. 

_Jisung: If you’re not asleep, there’s a spot next to us on the couch calling your name. _

Jisung hadn’t even had the chance to turn the screen off before Ten’s response came through. 

_Ten: On my way!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> So someone asked me recently why I moderate comments on this story. I moderate comments to make sure those who undermine the experiences of people with cancer and depression do not get added, as I believe they can be potentially triggering to those reading the comments. 
> 
> I have only had to deny 2 comments, and both implied that Jaemin was being dramatic and self-pitying, and I do not appreciate things like that being in the comment section of my stories. 
> 
> That being said, I have noticed that comments have slowed down on this story A LOT. I really, really appreciate comments! I don't moderate comments because I do not want them or I am afraid of what might be said. I try my absolute best to respond to every single comment that is left to me, and I would seriously, seriously be over the moon to get more. Even if it's just to tell me, hey, you spelled that word wrong and it threw me off, that's totally fine. I just love hearing your input and how the story makes you feel, especially. 
> 
> If you're reading this, please comment how this story has impacted you. How it makes you feel. Whether it makes you feel nothing, a bit sad, very sad, very happy, whatever! I just want to hear how you all feel.


	18. PART II: Right Place, Wrong Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung went to kiss him again, but Chenle put his hand up to stop him. Jisung felt instantly hurt by the rejection.
> 
> “Do you not want to?” Jisung asked. 
> 
> “I do, but not like this. You’re not usually like this, all frantic and lost. It’s like you’re into it, and then suddenly, you’re not, and I can’t even get you to hear me let alone keep going. What’s going on?” Chenle asked, and Jisung looked down and rolled himself off Chenle’s lap to settle down beside him. Chenle sat up and stared, waiting for him to explain. 
> 
> “I feel like if we don’t do it now, we won’t get to,” Jisung said, refusing to look Chenle in the eyes when he says it. Chenle frowned and sat up a little straighter, taking Jisung’s hand and holding it tight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> One drama ends, another begins. Welcome to finally having Chenle back as a real main character! How long has it been? A year? -_-
> 
> No real warnings for this chapter. Gets pretty heated toward the end, a small bit of embarrassment from both ends. Doesn't lead to anything except half of a needed conversation.

Jisung held Chenle’s hand as the nurse wheeled him from the cold, bleak hospital room out to Johnny’s car. It wasn’t their last time coming back, but it still felt as if they were coming to an end. Jisung even took the time to look behind himself, gazing through the lobby and up into the higher floors. His eyes caught the admissions woman he had so often spoken to as he arrived, and she gave him a soft smile and a wave. Even she knew it wasn’t the end. Jisung waved and turned, walking out the sliding doors. 

Their manager had been insistent that he come to pick up Chenle from the hospital, but Johnny had declined politely and let him know that he would be picking them up. Not only had Johnny never gotten the pleasure of seeing Chenle _leave_ the hospital, but their manager was seriously behind on work and preparing for NCT 127's imminent trip to the US. 

Johnny had said as much to the group when prompted, and Jisung raised an eyebrow knowingly. No matter how much they appreciated their staff, Johnny didn’t need to add unnecessary reasoning. Seeing Chenle leave the hospital after his final surgery was as mind-blowing and soul-fulfilling as it could possibly get. 

Johnny and Donghyuck were waiting for them as they exited, their faces split in broad grins. They jumped up and down and clapped, jogging over to meet them just as Chenle jumped from the wheelchair and, as quickly as he could manage, threw himself into Johnny's arms. 

Johnny lifted Chenle up, hugging him tight and rocking the two of them side to side. His eyes were tightly closed, hands and arms shaking, but Chenle was laughing. Chenle was hugging Johnny just as tightly back. For the first time in recent memory, there wasn’t plastic pressing where Chenle's neck met Johnny's shoulder blade. “I missed you, hyung,” Chenle said, and there was no leaking air sound accenting his speech. He was hoarse and a bit tired sounding, but he sounded like Chenle, and if not that, he at least sounded healthier. 

“I missed you, kiddo,” Johnny said, placing Chenle gently back to the floor. 

Chenle turned to Donghyuck next. Donghyuck didn’t even have the chance to move forward before Chenle was throwing himself at him. It was both heart wrenching and soul healing to see as Donghyuck’s lips wobbled and eyes fell closed, his arms slowly coming up to wrap so tightly around Chenle’s back. He cried, but Chenle was smiling. The others smiled with him.

“Chenle,” Donghyuck cried. 

“No more crying,” Chenle pulled back to look into Donghyuck’s eyes. His neck was partially bent, gaze only grazing Chenle’s. He looked ashamed but not enough to hide fully behind his dangling bangs. Chenle smiled, putting a gentle hand under Donghyuck’s chin and tilting it up. “This is a new day.”

“A new day,” Donghyuck nodded, falling into Chenle’s arms again. 

Jisung had observed the exchanges silently. He stood off to the side, arms crossed tightly against the biting chill, and just watched. Johnny was still fidgeting happily as Donghyuck slowly relaxed into Chenle’s body. Mark, who had been the one to help Jisung pack Chenle up to go in the first place, was mirroring Jisung’s stance but with an air of desire. 

Mark needed the closure, but he was too afraid to ask for it. Jisung watched Mark’s fingers twitch, his eyes blink far more than needed, and the hair on his head begin to settle into a permanent curl as he twirled it relentlessly. Jisung wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Mark wasn’t the type to stay silent on issues too long anyway. 

“Can we go home?” Chenle whispered, and Donghyuck nodded and broke away. Johnny jumped into the driver’s seat, Donghyuck beside him, and the other three sat uncomfortably close in the back seat. 

They drove home in silence, but it was comfortable. Even though Jisung didn’t want to admit it, the lack of Chenle’s trach was a monumental shift toward the mood’s betterment. Before, it was a constant reminder of how sick Chenle really was. How even if he walked, talked, ate, danced, and sang just like himself, he still would quickly die without the plastic embedded in his throat.

Even with the scar and the almost healed hole, it was only a reminder that he had lived.

Jisung startled when a hand grasped his. He looked down to see Chenle gripping so hard that his fingers were beginning to turn white. It took Jisung a moment to understand why. At first, he had assumed that Chenle was feeling sick, that he was lightheaded or nauseous, but then he finally saw it. The red on his own arms. The nail imprints left on abused skin. 

“I-” Jisung said, but Chenle smiled and shook his head.

“I know. We’ll get there,” Chenle nodded and turned to look Jisung in the eyes. He seemed so determined, even if Jisung’s new bad habit was far less damaging than many others. 

“Together?” Jisung asked, leaning his head on Chenle’s shoulder. Chenle turned his head and pressed a kiss to Jisung’s hair.

“Together.”

  
Jisung and Chenle were kissing on Chenle’s bed when Jisung pulled away with a frown. Chenle looked up at him curiously, opening his mouth to speak. Jisung cut him off before he had the chance. “I need a new hobby.”

Chenle deadpanned. “Seriously? Kissing me is so boring you’re thinking about how you need a new hobby? I wasn’t gone that long, Park Jisung.” 

“No, it’s not that. It’s more like kissing you has reminded me of something I want to do for you. I can’t do it without picking up a new hobby,” Jisung explained, really beginning to worry that he had offended Chenle greatly with his statement. As quick to forgive as he was, Chenle just sighed with a lopsided smile and flopped back onto the bed, intentionally making his shirt ride up to expose his belly. 

Jisung looked away with a suspiciously high-pitched breath intake. 

“Can we worry about it later? It’s been almost a month since we’ve had enough time to do this, and I’d really rather not waste it talking,” Chenle said, grabbing Jisung’s shirt collar in a fist and pulling him down to meet his lips. Jisung had so much more he wanted to say, but really, it could wait. 

Chenle opened his mouth for Jisung, sighing happily when Jisung’s tongue snaked out to accept the invitation. It was another first for them when Chenle’s tongue came to meet Jisung’s own. They danced around each other before Jisung connected their lips again, pulling back breathlessly to continue their new experiment. They had done something like this only one other time, and Jisung was reminded painfully of Chenle pulling back in frustration.

Back when Chenle had his trach. Back when he was a cold away from falling asleep and never waking up. 

Jisung didn’t have a lot of time to process that Jaemin had died, let alone Chenle. It made his heart rate pick up uncomfortably, and to try and negate the feeling, he pressed himself down atop of Chenle and threw himself into kissing him. He buried his hands in Chenle’s hair, pulling lightly and imagining the slight pull on his own head instead. Chenle sighed quietly, but Jisung could only think about how Chenle hadn’t been able to do that before. 

He bit at Chenle’s lip, scratched lightly down his arms, pulled at his hair. All the things he wanted to do to himself but not in the same way. Jisung was losing it again. He needed to stop before he mistakenly hurt Chenle with this horrible attempt at grounding himself. 

He went to pull away, but his hands tightened despite himself in Chenle’s hair. Jisung paused as Chenle bucked his hips into Jisung’s, and the two stared wide-eyed at each other. Chenle looked embarrassed, flushed all the way from the tips of his ears to his neck. He even grasped at his shirt, pulling it down to cover himself up. 

Jisung was going to pull himself away, but then a thought came to him. What if Chenle was gone tomorrow? Would they ever get the chance to wait like normal couples do? Part of him scoffed at the thought. What average couple waited until they were of age to do things? Jaemin and Renjun had probably done more than Chenle and Jisung had even thought about, and they were only a couple years older.

Jisung went to kiss him again, but Chenle put his hand up to stop him. Jisung felt instantly hurt by the rejection.

“Do you not want to?” Jisung asked. 

“I do, but not like this. You’re not usually like this, all frantic and lost. It’s like you’re into it, and then suddenly, you’re not, and I can’t even get you to hear me let alone keep going. What’s going on?” Chenle asked, and Jisung looked down and rolled himself off Chenle’s lap to settle down beside him. Chenle sat up and stared, waiting for him to explain. 

“I feel like if we don’t do it now, we won’t get to,” Jisung said, refusing to look Chenle in the eyes when he says it. Chenle frowned and sat up a little straighter, taking Jisung’s hand and holding it tight. 

“Why do you say that? I only have a few more rounds of chemo, remember? This could be it. Then we have our whole lives to pick the right moment,” Chenle said, and when Jisung didn’t respond, he continued, “If I thought that right now was the right time, I would say yes. I love and trust you. But, you being distracted and upset isn’t how I want this to happen. I want to enjoy it with you. I want both of us to be there. Completely. If we’re giving ourselves to each other completely, it only makes sense that it is all we’re thinking about.”

“You know I love you?” Jisung asked, looking up at Chenle. “Even without it, you know how much I love you?” 

Chenle smiled bitterly and nodded, pulling Jisung in for another kiss. “I know, Jisung-ah. You’ve given me more than I could have ever asked for. Even though I’m broken and burdensome, you stay beside me.”

Jisung could do nothing but pull Chenle to him and wrap him tightly in his embrace. Chenle was in no way a burden, in no way broken. 

“Can I see?” Chenle suddenly asked, and Jisung looked up without knowing what Chenle was requesting to see. He pointed at Jisung’s chest, and suddenly it all made sense. The scratches from when Chenle had died. The scars.

He nodded, and Chenle shuffled so he could better lift Jisung’s shirt over his head. Yet another first. Chenle slowly threw Jisung’s shirt to the side, staring at the small number of scars littered over his once smooth, unblemished skin. 

It was when Chenle was tracing his fingers over the darkest of the scars that Jisung was unable to keep himself from speaking anymore. He said, voice breaking, “It has to be you. I can’t imagine it with anyone else.” 

Chenle didn’t look up. Instead, he leaned down and pressed soft kisses to the scars. He started with the one closest to Jisung’s collarbone, working down until he was where Jisung’s rib cage ended. Then, he trailed his way back up, finding only two more to love, but giving them extra time to make up for it. 

“To be honest,” Chenle said, looking up finally. “I don’t want you to do it with anyone else. The thought is actually making me nauseous. You’re mine. _Forever_.” 

Jisung laughed despite himself, nodding his agreement to wipe the look of stricken panic off Chenle’s face. “Forever. You’re the only one in the entire world that I want to be with. No one else can ever take your place.” This felt like the lead to a meaningful, needed conversation, but Chenle didn’t guide it deeper. He simply laid his head atop Jisung’s shoulder and breathed in the scent of their shared laundry detergent and perfume. 

All he said, mouth pressed so hard into Jisung’s shoulder it was hard to hear, was, “I would haunt you for the rest of your life, Park Jisung. And it would_ not _be pleasant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10k views! Wow! I seriously can't believe that this story has hit that milestone. I didn't think it would ever get there, but of all of my stories to do that, I'm so grateful that it was this one. No matter how...evolutionary my writing style has been as I work through it, I still have consistent, loving readers who pour everything into their comments, give kudos, share this work other places, and continue to read, and that's all I could ask for. Also, can I say the comments on the last chapter were amazing. I got double what I expected, and even some new commenters I hadn't heard from before! I am overwhelmed with love and gratitude, and I hope that we continue on together. From the start to the end! 
> 
> I wish there was more that I could do for you all for such a huge milestone (for me), but alas, I have no ideas, lol. If you all have anything at all that you would like, please let me know. I will not take requests for this story as the ending was written before the rest of the story so I can't lose track of it, but if any of you have other topics, please let me know. I know lots of you want more prank stories (lmao) and I've had one or two requests for other stuff, but I've been so focused on this and Morphine I keep slacking.


	19. PART II: Less Than Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They’re going to kick me out,” Chenle whispered, and all heads whipped right to him. 
> 
> “Why would you say that?” Jeno said, although his tone suggested he knew precisely why Chenle would say that. 
> 
> “I’m too much work. I cause too many problems. If it’s not missing schedules, it’s causing problems with their business. If this goes through, it’ll be all my fault that 127 or WayV aren’t doing their promotions at the right time. I’ll make the company lose money all because I was unlucky enough to get cancer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposition, bleh.

Jisung and Chenle forgot about their conversation the minute their heads hit their respective pillows. The next morning was full to bursting with meetings all centered around their next comeback and 127s next trip to the USA. Even if Dream wasn’t involved in this trip, they were still required to attend, and none of them knew why until they showed up.

All twenty-one NCT members crowded into one of the few conference rooms intended for that number of people, plus the staff that accompanied them. There was some hushed conversation, but most of the members were buried in their phones, unwilling to fully break out from the lull of sleep. 

It shocked Jisung that all of them were there. He was only aware of WayV’s next trip because of Renjun and Jaemin’s low grumbling about their older brothers not being there to run to at moments notice. The texts and e-mails had said nothing about them to suggest their required attendance. 

Jisung startled again. Renjun and Jaemin, who so happened to be sitting _next_ to each other. Not only that, but they were part of the small group having a hushed conversation. Jisung was sure he was going mad again. The infamous Renmin not arguing over whether the table was polished brown or just plain brown? What world did he wake up in?

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Chenle asked, quieter than usual but still not exactly a whisper. It had a few heads turning his way, but they all quickly turned away once Chenle didn’t elaborate. 

“Yeah, it is. I can’t believe it, to be honest,” Jisung said, unable to take his eyes off the two. Renjun even seemed to be gravitating _closer_ to Jaemin. 

Jisung pulled his messages up when he saw Chenle go to type something to him, waiting anxiously to see what could not be said out loud. 

_Chenle: I may or may not have spied on them last night?_

Jisung raised an amused eyebrow and tried not to smile. Chenle smirked and shrugged his shoulders, nearly dropping his phone in the process. Both of them go to grab it at the same time, causing quite a bit of commotion, but all they got were a few shaking heads and a friendly, “Ah, they both have unlucky hands!”

“Sorry,” Chenle giggled, and Jisung rolled his eyes.

“Don’t do it again. I don’t tolerate butterfingers,” Jisung joked, and Chenle slapped him much harder than he’d been able to in months. Jisung made sure to play up his agony in celebration.

Jisung went back to his phone and typed out another message, making it quick when he saw the staff begin to get settled. 

_Jisung: I want to know everything._

_Chenle: Then everything you shall know!_

“Alright, are we ready to get started?” Their manager prompted, and everyone was quick to get settled and agree. He smiled and picked up a piece of paper filled to the brim with topics for conversation. Jisung could feel the next few hours of his life slipping into the void. “We have quite a bit to cover today, so let’s try to get through it as quickly as possible. I know we all have jam-packed days coming up, and I’d rather not keep you longer than I have to.”

Everyone sat straighter at this, ready to get information overload and book it. 

“I think we all know what the first thing on our agenda should be and is. Our Zhong Chenle has only one round of chemotherapy left!” Their manager said, and everyone immediately erupted into loud applause. Chenle collapsed in on himself with a vast, yet shy smile as everyone threw their congratulations and well wishes at him. It took a few minutes to get everyone resettled, but it didn’t seem like anyone minded this block of time being taken up. “We just want to say that we are so proud of you. You have fought like a true warrior, and we will continue to be by your side.”

“Thank you,” Chenle bowed to the staff and settled back into his seat. Jisung took his hand and squeezed it tight, knowing that while Chenle loved the attention, he usually wasn’t a fan of it when it came to his cancer and not his performances or work ethic. 

“And to all of the rest of you as well,” The manager began. “We have had no complaints brought to us about anyone in this room for almost the entirety of comeback and break season. I am so thankful that you all work so well together and resolve issues between yourselves effectively. That is the key to being a stable, working team, and you all have knocked that out of the park.”

Jisung was momentarily surprised. For how much Jaemin and Renjun were at each other’s throats, and the whole thing with Ten, and how Jisung bolted...Jisung mentally waved it off. If their managers thought they were the most cohesive, bonded teams in the entire world, that just meant they were good at faking it, and their fans wouldn’t notice a difference. 

“Now, having said that, if there are any issues at all between you, you are welcome to come to us to get _advice_ on how to resolve them. We cannot fix personal issues for you. You must put in the work as a team. We are at the beginning of our comeback seasons for all three groups, which means even if you absolutely despise the person next to you, there needs to be a divide between personal relationships and camera relationships.” Everyone gave a round of agreement when it became clear their manager was waiting for one. “So, feel free to come and ask me how we can fix anything that needs fixing but do not show it on camera. I don’t think this will be an issue, but it was on the paper, so I digress.”

“I agree, it shouldn’t be a problem,” One of their staff piped up, looking Jaemin dead in the eye. It made Jisung’s insides flare hot and red, but Jaemin stared right back as if challenging her to say anything more. She backed down, and their manager continued. 

“Yes, thank you for your input,” He said, in such a way that implied you could verbalize an eye-roll. Jisung smirked, very satisfied by the response. “Sort of on this topic, Dream will be the only ones here in these dorms for a month and two weeks closer to the end of the year. I know that when Chenle was going through the worst of his illness, you all were very tight-knit and relied on each other heavily. We do believe that it is the right time to begin traveling again despite this.”

Part of Jisung disagreed, but there was no way his input would matter. It didn’t even seem like their manager agreed with his own words. He had yet to look up from his paper. The only ones that seemed satisfied by this were higher up officials part of SM as a whole rather than just NCT themselves.

Taeyong sat a little straighter, and their manager acknowledged this shift with a quick glance and a raised hand, motioning for him to speak. 

“I understand the necessity for global expansion to the NCT brand. It is one of the most crucial aspects of furthering SM’s market and audience. However, I don’t know if it’s the right time to have both groups leave Dream behind. Even though more than half of them are now adults, all of them, if we are considering places of birth and regulations in other countries they may visit, I still do not believe it is in good moral standard to leave them alone. Chenle has only recently had his surgery, and he still has to go through one more chemotherapy treatment. Even though he’s responded well so far, how do we know he won’t react horribly to the next round?” Taeyong said, and Johnny sat up and lifted his hand. Their manager motioned for him to speak.

“I agree. There has never been an emergency where we were not present. If not me, Taeyong or Taeil were always running between the hospital, the Dream dorm, the company, or their parents’ homes. I understand that they are of age and old enough to handle this independently. Still, I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with forcing them to. They have had us beside them since March. It would be one thing if we were going to another city, or even to China or Japan. But the United States?” Johnny sounded breathless by the end. Jisung could see that their manager was listening with rapt attention, but the higher up staff was rolling their eyes and scoffing.

“How about we allow the Dream members to speak on their own behalf?” The woman who had so blatantly stared at Jaemin spoke up. Jeno, who took over the majority of lead decisions since Mark left, straightened himself up. 

“I believe that we would be able to handle any emergency without 127 or WayV here,” Jeno said, and all but Dream looked at Jeno incredulously. “However, I agree that it feels too soon. Chenle still has bad days, and we're still not out of the woods for even simple colds to lead to another hospital trip. If this were to happen, I would like to have someone to call.” 

“That is what your staff are for, Mr. Lee,” One of the more well-dressed, professional-looking men said with a sardonic smile. “I understand that you do not feel comfortable enough with your staff to trust in their judgment and call for them if need be?”

“I am simply saying that if Chenle were to end up in the hospital with strep throat, those of us who still struggle would like to have someone there,” Jeno said, and the man's smile became even more sinister.

“So, you are not comfortable with each other?” The man asked, and Jeno stayed as professional and upright as he began. Jeno didn’t fall to bait.

“If your brother was dying, would you not want your best friend beside you?” Jeno asked, and the man looked at him curiously but did not pull another quip forward. Their manager waited for a beat before looking at Jeno and giving him a curt nod.

“We will take this into consideration; thank you for speaking on your team’s behalf,” He said, nodding to Taeyong, Johnny, and Jeno in turn. The three of them nodded back and settled a bit more in their seats. Jisung could see it as they settled, the red that ran from their necks up to the tips of their ears. Taeyong’s hands were shaking, Johnny’s teeth were clenched, and Jeno’s hands were balled so tight his fingers turned white. 

The meeting continued without any more discussion on personal matters. It was schedules, tracklists, and dance overviews. WayV was dismissed with a gracious thank you from their manager and a few stiff nods from the others, and suddenly the room felt far more empty than it had before. 

“My last announcement for all of you,” Their manager said, giving them tired, apologetic looks. They urged him forward. “There will be a new edition of NCT Life. One for 127, and one for Dream.”

The room erupted into excited applause, and their manager allowed them to have a happy moment. Once everyone settled down, he talked through the locations and basic ideas for the programs, before dropping the bomb everyone had been waiting for. 

“Donghyuck, since you will be promoting with 127 at the time of Dream’s filming, you will be unable to participate,” He said. Suddenly the mood dropped back to where it had been before the announcement. The disappointment was thick, but the group did their best to ignore it in favor of promising to work together on a future edition they weren’t sure would ever exist. 

“That’ll be all for today,” Their manager said, closing his notebook and standing. Dream and 127 bid goodbye and waited for all staff to leave before getting up themselves. Jisung watched as Jaemin all but ran out of the room, leaving everyone behind to stare. 

From the moment the manager had announced that WayV would be gone for a month and a half, Jisung had been worrying for Jaemin. For how hard they’d fallen out, Jaemin and Ten had not been apart for more than a few days since Jaemin’s attempt. 

“I’ll go find Jaemin, you guys head on to dance practice,” Taeyong said, but Jisung shook his head with a sad smile. 

“I’m sure Ten has already found him,” Jisung said, and Taeyong nodded.

“I’m sure he never left.” With that, Taeyong headed off with the rest of 127. That left Dream as the only ones occupying the once full space. They danced around each other, not saying anything until all of them realized Chenle had yet to get up from his seat. Jisung, worried for him, bent down and reached for his hand, startling when he yelped at the contact. 

“Oh, Chenle. Why didn’t you say anything?” Jisung asked, pulling the numbing cream out of his back pocket and twisting the cap off. Chenle didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look up from the table. 

“They’re going to kick me out,” Chenle whispered, and all heads whipped right to him. 

“Why would you say that?” Jeno said, although his tone suggested he knew precisely why Chenle would say that. 

“I’m too much work. I cause too many problems. If it’s not missing schedules, it’s causing problems with their business. If this goes through, it’ll be all my fault that 127 or WayV aren’t doing their promotions at the right time. I’ll make the company lose money all because I was unlucky enough to get _cancer_,” Chenle spat. Jisung went to hug him but backed off when Chenle shoved him away. Of all the things Jisung knew not to do, crowding Chenle when he was in his head was close to number one. 

“Then we’ll go together,” Everyone turned to see Jaemin standing in the doorway, Ten hovering close behind. “I can’t imagine what could possibly be worse for the company than someone who tried to kill themselves. They already found a way to blame it on me. I heard them talking about how I can’t be left alone in the hallway.” Jaemin plopped down in a chair and began playing with his nails. Everyone sighed and stood still, not sure what to say. 

“They wouldn’t,” Jisung said, although it was more of a comfort for him than Chenle or Jaemin. If they hadn’t done it when Chenle scrapped the Boom MV, why would they do it now?

“I guess if they kick me out, I won’t have to pretend to be only your best friend anymore,” Chenle giggled, face falling into a pained o-shape as his hands throbbed. Jisung instantly got back to work with the cream. He went over Chenle’s hands carefully and thoroughly, recapping the medicine only once he was sure all the little nooks and crannies were filled. 

“You’re not going to get kicked out, sorry. We get to live in silence one more day,” Jisung said. Chenle scoffed, but it didn’t sound dismissive to Jisung’s ears. More exasperated, leaning on exhausted. 

It was quiet for a moment. Long enough, the fidgeting began to get noticeable on the more awkward-susceptible members. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Jaemin said, “I want to be a nurse,” He smiled ruefully and continued when no one said anything back. “I don’t know if this is where I want to be forever. I want to make a genuine difference for people like me. Not just a figurehead, but a real, genuine force in the mental health world. I signed up for Anatomy and Physiology, introduction to psychology, and Introduction to Nursing for university next semester. I’m going to see how it goes.” 

Everyone seemed floored. Even if a lot of members had at least a few classes dabbling in psychology, none of them actually majored in it. Jisung wondered if the company knew because it was unlikely they ever would have approved the change. 

“Are you going to leave?” Chenle whispered. Jaemin shook his head.

“Not unless they make me. I know what I want to do, but right now, it’s just a fallback plan to anyone except you guys. Okay?” Jaemin asked, and all of them nodded, albeit reluctantly. 

Jisung looked up to see how Renjun had taken the news. To Jisung’s surprise, Renjun didn’t seem surprised at all. Both him and Ten looked relieved. As if they’d been holding onto this piece of knowledge far too long, and it was finally free and lifted from their shoulders.

“We should go,” Jeno said. All of them looked at the clock to see they were only a few minutes away from being late. 

“Let’s go, then” Jaemin said, hopping up and leading the way. Jisung led Chenle behind the others, and just as he walked through the door, he caught eyes with Ten. The man was trying to say something without words, but Chenle’s shaking had distracted him too much to get the message right away. 

He just hoped it wasn’t important yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> Still a super, super huge fan of comments! I didn't get too many on the last chapter, so I thought I'd try asking for them again to see if I can get more than last time. I would seriously appreciate it! They're the lifeblood of this story. ^_^


	20. PART II: Neglect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings(?):
> 
> Arguments, jealously, vomiting, weakness. 
> 
> Also got some make-outs and Chenji getting walked in on by their lovely hyung, so...enjoy!

Time flew too fast. One day they were enjoying the relative freedom of late mornings and nights, days broken up with last-minute homework and video games, and then suddenly they were back in the dance studio learning the counts to their newest song. 

The next week was packed full of recording sessions, dance practices, gym hours, and online classes taking up seemingly every last second of available time. Even the best of them at time management were still barely submitting assignments before 23:59, let alone getting to sleep before then. 

“In America, it’s yesterday,” Renjun would say, tapping his forehead with his bite-mark covered pencil. 

Jeno would then pipe up with an, “And?” Which made Renjun point out that he would have more time if only he lived in Hawaii.

Then came Jisung, far too enthralled with Town of Salem, saying, “But then you’d just wait until 23:30 there, hyung.”

Renjun would glare but say nothing to the contrary. 

Now back in the dance studio, it was really Jisung and Jaemin’s time to shine. Good grades here and there were cool and all, but they had been working to refine both their individual and duo techniques for weeks. They had gone all the way back to Chewing Gum, finishing out with Boom almost every night since the meeting with their manager, and the improvement on both ends was incredible. Even with the new choreography, they were in sync with each other. 

“Stop!” Their choreographer shouted halfway through the first verse. “Chenle, Renjun, you’re adding an extra beat. It’s pa-pa-_pa_, not pa-_pa_-pa-_pa_.” The instructor explained, and Jisung could feel the frustration rolling off of Chenle. Renjun, too, looked upset, but Chenle looked devastated each time their choreographer gave him a critique. 

He was panting and leaned over when their choreographer went to assist Renjun with his part. It didn’t look as bad as when Chenle had been practicing Boom, but it was still obvious that he was struggling physically. 

“I think it’s looking pretty good,” Jeno said, walking over to where Chenle and Donghyuck were standing. “Chenle, are you doing okay?” He looked warily at Chenle’s bent frame. Chenle nodded and gave a thumbs-up, but couldn’t catch his breath enough to verbalize anything. 

“Hey,” Jisung stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Chenle’s back. “If you can’t speak, you need to take a break.”

“No,” Chenle wheezed, grabbing at his chest. No one moved to do anything at first, waiting to see if Chenle would regain his breath and be ready to go. 

“Chenle,” Jisung said, but Chenle put his hand up to stop him. 

“Okay. I’m-” Chenle said, but the words seemed to take too much out of him. He leaned back over himself, gasping for breath, and Jisung had all of three seconds to shove Jeno out of the way before Chenle was vomiting right where he’d been standing. 

“I see it’s break time,” Their choreographer said, a sad lilt to his tone. Jisung nodded his thanks and helped Chenle to the floor, pleadingly requesting some towels and disinfectant to rid the room of the smell. Jaemin and Renjun took off, promising to be back quickly. 

“Jisung,” Chenle said, grasping at Jisung’s shirt collar. 

“I’m here. You’re okay,” Jisung said, replacing the shirt with his own hand. Chenle looked fearful of something that Jisung simply couldn’t place. They had talked about what had happened over the last year, and nothing implied that Chenle was worried or afraid of anything. It never seemed to come up until things like this happened. 

“I don’t want it back,” Chenle whispered. Donghyuck and Jeno took this as their cue to leave the couple alone. 

“Don’t want what back, baby?” Jisung asked, intentionally dropping the endearment to try and soothe Chenle’s nerves. It didn’t work like Jisung wanted, but it did have an effect. Instead of sitting awkwardly upright as he struggled, he fell back onto Jisung’s chest, allowing his muscles to fully relax. 

“The _thing,_” Chenle said, pointing to his neck. 

It didn’t all suddenly make sense to Jisung, but a little piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place. Chenle didn’t want his tracheostomy back. He was worried that if he kept having episodes like this, he would need it again. 

“Chenle, your body has gone through one of the most horrible things it could ever go through. It’s just trying to readjust to being normal again. You won’t need to go back; you just need to give yourself the proper time to rest and recuperate. This is a lot for someone who just went through what you went through,” Jisung said.

Suddenly, another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. They had only one week left before Chenle’s second MRI scan to see if the cancer had returned. Then, he had one appointment more to determine how high of a chance there was of recurrence. 

Maybe Jisung should’ve been more concerned than he was. After all, the first month of physical therapy had gone well for Chenle. He had been breathless and needed to take more breaks, but to Jisung’s knowledge, he’d never thrown up or collapsed. 

Although, Chenle didn’t think he’d get fired for doing poorly in physical therapy. 

“Are you doing this because you think they’re going to kick you out?” Jisung whispered, eyeing their choreographer across the room. When Chenle didn’t respond, Jisung had to fight the anger and disbelief that shot through him. It was bizarre to Jisung that Chenle wondered whether they would sever his contract for an illness. 

It was even worse that Chenle was going to work himself to death over it.

“Chenle, we need to talk,” Jisung said, feeling awful when Chenle flinched and shied away from him, but he couldn’t back down. “I’m serious. I love you, and I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore. We need to talk about taking care of yourself.”

“We did talk about it. I’m _trying_,” Chenle whimpered. Jisung stared at him for a long time. Long enough that the mess in front of them had been thoroughly cleaned, and their choreographer was calling Jisung back to practice. Instead of saying anything, Jisung cupped Chenle’s cheek with a look that said he knew, and he loved him, but they were still going to talk. 

Chenle looked down when Jisung stood and returned to practice, biting the inside of his cheek until it bled to keep from crying.

  
“Was hoping you forgot,” Chenle said when Jisung pushed the door to Chenle and Renjun’s room open that night. Jisung smiled and shook his head, shutting the door softly and making his way over to the vacant computer chair next to the two double beds. 

“You must not know me too well,” Jisung jested. Chenle sighed dramatically and shook his head, laying back against the pillows with a hand covering his eyes.

“I don’t. You’re a whole new person! I heard that you actually won a game of League against Johnny-hyung,” Chenle said, and Jisung splayed his arms in a gloating shrug. 

“You know,” Jisung said. “I’ve had lots of time to practice with all of my school procrastination.” 

Chenle giggled and looked back down at his iPad, pressing a few buttons. His face fell with each press, and Jisung knew he was anticipating what was to come next. It hurt Jisung a little, although he tried his best to bury that digging feeling. Jisung was taking Chenle’s aversion to the conversation far too personal. It wasn’t that Chenle didn’t want to talk to him or felt threatened by him; he was tired of having to have these conversations.

Jisung could sympathize greatly.

“I’m not going to make you talk if you don’t want to, but I’d really like for you to hear me out,” Jisung said, and Chenle didn’t make a move to show he heard. Jisung sucked a breath in through his nose and blew it back out. It wasn’t him. It was the situation. “I want you to hear me out as someone who loves you. I do, Chenle. I love you. I can’t keep watching you do these things to yourself.”

“Jisung, I’m not doing anything,” Chenle tried to argue, but it took one glance up at Jisung to see that it wouldn’t work. “I’m just trying to catch up with everyone. Not only do you guys have a whole comeback on me, but you and_ Jaemin_ went out and did a _boot camp_ for this comeback. I’m sorry if I want to look like I even deserve to be in the same group as you.”

Okay, so maybe it was him. 

“I worked with Jaemin because he needed someone there. It wasn’t to try and get a leg up on anyone,” Jisung stopped himself before he could go further. It felt like Chenle was intentionally baiting him into an argument to get the conversation to end sooner, and Jisung didn’t want to fall into that trap. It had happened one too many times in the past, even before they were in a relationship. 

“Why didn’t you work with _me_, then?” Chenle asked, slapping his iPad cover over the front and tossing it to the side. Jisung stared in shock for a moment. “Stop looking at me like that. Please. I’m so sick of being gawked at.”

“I’m not...Chenle, I’m not gawking at you,” Jisung said. He internally berated himself for his defensive tone. Jisung lifted himself off the chair and settled down next to Chenle on the bed, relieved when Chenle didn’t instantly scoot away. “I didn’t work with you because you need to rest, baby. All those times Jaemin and I practiced were when we shouldn’t have been in the studio. No matter how much I want you there, I don’t want you getting sick because you’re pushing yourself.”

“That’s not what I care about,” Chenle sounded so frustrated. Like it was something he couldn’t believe Jisung wasn’t getting. “You’re just so dense sometimes. Whatever, okay, I can’t dance all the time. That’s fine! But why couldn’t Renjun be with Jaemin? Or Ten?” Chenle asked.

“Ten was preparing for his trip, and Renjun, well--” Jisung said, but Chenle cut him off before he could dawdle on about Jaemin and Renjun’s slowly healing relationship. 

“I just want you to be with me,” Chenle said, crossing his arms over his chest. Usually, Jisung would say the act looked petulant, if a bit adorable. Now, it just made him look closed off and defensive. 

“Chenle, I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m always here,” Jisung said, motioning around at the room. Chenle rolled his eyes and pressed a finger underneath the right one to try and stop it from watering up. 

“I guess. You do your homework, you play a game with Donghyuck, you eat, you go dance with _Jaemin_ for four hours, and then you sleep,” Chenle said, ticking off each thing on one of his shaking hands. It made Jisung internally panic. He hated it when Chenle’s hands shook. 

What Chenle said, though...it wasn’t wrong. Jisung found himself feeling very exposed and vulnerable, but it wasn’t him that he should be worrying about. Had he really been neglecting Chenle so much? He went through the last couple of months and found that, yes, he really had not been spending as much time with Chenle as he should’ve. 

Jisung would have smacked himself. Of all the memories he had with Chenle recently, only a handful were not revolving around berating him for his lack of self-care. _That_ conversation, the meeting, a few talks before bed. If he tried hard enough, he could even see Chenle’s face fall each time Jisung pecked him goodbye as he went with Jaemin to the studio. Even worse, Jisung could see himself be more doting and attentive when Chenle was sick. _No,_ that could not happen. Jisung could not let Chenle believe he was only beside him when he was sick. 

_Damn. _

“I know you’re mad because I’m overworking myself, but I can do better,” Chenle whispered. “I can. I don’t want you to leave me because I’m selfish and only think of myself.” 

Jisung floundered. Who in God’s name had put _that_ in Chenle’s head?

“Chenle, you are _not_ selfish. Just because you want to be a great idol does not mean you are a bad person. Yes, you have problems with overworking yourself, but I understand. That’s what I wanted to tell you today, not that you were in the wrong for it.” Jisung said. Chenle was picking at the skin on the back of his hands.

“But you can’t stand to see it anymore, right?” Chenle asked. Jisung was heartbroken when he realized where this was going. 

“Chenle, I am not going to leave you,” Jisung said. He was in total disbelief when Chenle turned away from him again, his whole upper body shaking as he sniffled. “Who’s got into your head?”

“No one,” Chenle said a bit too quickly. 

“Chenle,” Jisung said, turning Chenle’s face to him. “Who has you thinking like this? I understand the neglected part, and I swear to you from this moment on, you are my priority. But the self-deprecating talk . . . It’s just not like you.”

“_No one,_ Jisung. No one,” Chenle said again. Jisung knew he was lying, but there was no point in frustrating him any further. There was the glaring fact that he was the one that caused the majority of Chenle’s self-doubt, regardless of anyone else’s influence. 

“Let’s go on a date,” Jisung said, trying to get Chenle to really look at him. It worked. Chenle looked up, bright-eyed and curious. 

“A date?” Chenle asked. Jisung nodded with a hum. 

“Our first date was . . . Yeah, a date. It’s a bit cold out lately, so I don’t think we could get ice cream again. What do you want to do?” Jisung asked, and Chenle seemed to consider it. 

“Jumanji?” Chenle asked, and Jisung smiled widely. 

“Yes. Let’s go see Jumanji,” Jisung said. Chenle smiled shyly and nodded, leaning up until he could properly wrap his arms around Jisung’s shoulders. They hugged for so long Jisung could hear Renjun yelling that dinner was ready and that Donghyuck either needed to come down and eat or get off the games. Chenle chuckled and pressed a kiss to Jisung’s cheek. 

“I love you,” Chenle said it as if it was a plea. Jisung cupped Chenle’s cheeks in both hands and pressed a loving, passionate kiss to his lips. He tried his best to pour everything into it. All of the things he’d felt from the moment they met up until that point in time. 

Chenle kissed like it was a fleeting thing. Like Jisung would get up and answer Renjun’s call for dinner if he didn’t hold on tight enough. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jisung said, pulling back just enough their lips still brushed together as he spoke. Chenle didn’t open his eyes or relax throughout the whispered promise. He only waited with his mouth still parted. Once the words tapered off, he was pulling Jisung back in, breathing heavily out his nose as their kisses picked up intensity. 

“Hey!” The two broke apart as the door flew open, Jisung crashing to the floor when he misjudged how much bed he had to his left to catch himself on. Renjun was standing surprised in the doorway, eyebrows lost in his hairline as Jisung flung himself back to his feet and turned toward the wall. 

“Be there in a minute!” Jisung said. He glanced over and saw Chenle buried in one of his pillows, knees pulled up to his chest. God, of all the things that could happen. Renjun couldn’t have waited another ten minutes? 

“Okay! Uh, just . . . Mark and Donghyuck are here, too. Whenever, you’re, you know, ready. Decent. Bye,” Renjun said, shutting the door behind him. 

“Kill me,” Chenle said, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. Jisung chuckled and shook his head, plopping back down on the bed and beginning the process of prying Chenle off the bed. Chenle groaned all the while, still trying to hide until he cracked like an egg, splayed out, and leaned against Jisung’s chest.

“It’s just me, nothing I haven’t seen before,” Jisung chuckled with a headshake. Chenle just covered his eyes and cringed. 

“Renjun just walked in on that,” Chenle said.

“Yep,” Jisung said.

“Now we have to go eat dinner with him.”

“Correct.”

“Do you think a fall from this height is enough to kill me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> Please leave comments! I love them! 
> 
> I don't have too much to say on this chapter, other than I've been waiting to write it for a while. Chenle has always been the "put together" one in my head, and to finally get to write him with real doubts and fears is very refreshing. Not everyone can just be happy, happy, la, la, all the time. I tried to sprinkle little bits of Chenle's fear of Jisung leaving him recently, so I hope this wasn't a HUGE surprise that he feels this way, even if it wasn't blatantly stated before. Downside of having one POV, I guess. 
> 
> Depression and anxiety are not kind friends, so please, take care of yourself.


	21. PART II: Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Something you need to talk to your dear older brother about?” Jeno laid the dirty towels down and settled onto his bottom, waiting patiently for Chenle to speak.
> 
> Chenle had to think about it for a moment. Of all the members, Jeno was the one around the least. He wasn’t involved in anything outside of whatever he told Jisung that had him so worked up for . . . well, Chenle didn’t think Jisung had ever calmed down over it. Regardless, maybe his lack of a presence made him the best person to go to. 
> 
> Or maybe Chenle just missed having Jeno around to hold onto. 
> 
> “Yeah,” Chenle nodded, and Jeno mimicked the motion back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double post because...I felt like it. And I have a lot of homework this weekend, so I figured I might as well get as close as I can to finishing this part up before then. I think we only have two more chapters before part two is finished? I'll have to check my notebook, but ey! Made it again! This time Jisung and Chenle get the limelight for the climax, lol. 
> 
> Fair warning, this chapter switches POVs. Unfortunately started reading a book that does this, and I didn't hate it as much as I expected to.

**Chenle**

Chenle didn’t hate physical therapy, but he sure as Hell wasn’t falling over himself to go, either. He had forms of exercise that he preferred, like dance, jogging, swimming, and basketball. None of which were part of the program. No, while everyone else got to practice for Ridin’ or go to the gym for conditioning, Chenle got to box.

Yay. Not. 

Of all the parts of his body to subject to repetitive force, his hands weren’t exactly his number one pick. Even though the effects of his chemotherapy had begun to wear off, his hands were still sensitive and burned like molten metal each time he missed his pain medicine by more than half an hour. With how packed his days were, that seemed to be happening more and more often.

Chenle stared at the slow-moving clock, willing it to hit four-thirty so he could go home. His therapist encouraged him to continue, so he did, but the pain was getting hard to handle. 

“Two more reps, and you should be good to go for today. I’m going to go see if Nurse Kang has finished with the cardio center. Will you be alright until I get back?” The therapist asked, and Chenle nodded. He was glad for the privacy.

Two more reps. He could do it.

Chenle threw himself into it, blinded by the desire to just get this over with. By the time he was throwing the last ten punches, he was sweaty and panting, his arms and legs shaking from the overexertion. He threw the final punch and staggered backward, hitting the wall and sliding down until his bottom touched the floor. Panting, he heaved in a breath and coughed, expelling all the contents he had in his stomach with it. 

Chenle didn’t move to try and wipe it away. He couldn’t even if he really wanted to. He wasn’t upset or angry, or even disgusted by his state; he was just disappointed in himself. Throwing up after two reps when Jeno could’ve done twenty and still tried for more was a massive blow to his shattered ego. 

Carding his hands through hair that was not synthetic felt strange. It was only newly regrowing, shorter than Chenle had ever had it before, but it was _his_, and boy was it sweaty and gross. What he would give for a shower rather than the change of clothes he knew his therapist would bring him. 

He looked up at the clock again, seeing it had finally hit four. Jaemin would have finished up his own therapy by this point and was probably already on his way to practice with Jisung. 

Chenle’s heart gave a jealous lurch. Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin.

_“Jaemin and I have been practicing together.”_

_“Jaemin and I already ate.”_

_“Jaemin and I watched this episode already.”_

Chenle unclenched his teeth before he did some real damage. He spent enough time in the hospital, he didn’t need time at the dentist on top of it.

It had only been a day since Chenle had told Jisung how he really felt about him and Jaemin being together so much. Even though Jisung had promised that Chenle was his priority, he still texted Chenle first thing in the morning to say Jaemin had begged him to practice the counts to Quiet Down with him, so he’d be home late. 

At the risk of sounding like one of _those_ boyfriends, Chenle was well and thoroughly pissed.

There were twenty other members for Jaemin to pick from. Why did it have to be Jisung that he latched onto? Hadn’t they been at each other’s throats not a month ago? Even Renjun didn’t forgive Jaemin that fast, and he forgave everyone. 

“Woah, turn it down a bit, sparky. That chair you’re glaring at is starting to smoke,” Chenle looked up to see Jeno standing over him with a new outfit and some towels cradled in his arms. Chenle looked away, but Jeno leaned down and began to wipe the sick off Chenle’s body. 

“Why are you here?” Chenle asked, trying his best not to make it sound accusatory. He wasn’t sure if it worked.

“Since Kun left this morning, I offered to come pick you up. I hope that’s okay,” Jeno said. Chenle internally berated himself. _Be nice. _

“Yeah, sorry. I’m happy to see you, hyung,” Chenle said, getting a sad smile from Jeno in response. 

“Something you need to talk to your dear older brother about?” Jeno laid the dirty towels down and settled onto his bottom, waiting patiently for Chenle to speak.

Chenle had to think about it for a moment. Of all the members, Jeno was the one around the least. He wasn’t involved in anything outside of whatever he told Jisung that had him so worked up for . . . well, Chenle didn’t think Jisung had ever calmed down over it. Regardless, maybe his lack of a presence made him the best person to go to. 

Or maybe Chenle just missed having Jeno around to hold onto. 

“Yeah,” Chenle nodded, and Jeno mimicked the motion back to him. 

“Let’s get you changed, and we’ll go get some hot chocolate. We can talk all night if you need to,” Jeno promised. Chenle reached his arms up for Jeno, and he didn’t hesitate to take them to help pull Chenle to his feet. 

**Jisung**

Jisung arrived at the studio to see Jaemin settled against the mirrors scrolling through his phone. Jisung tossed his bag on the floor and shook out his muscles, making his way to the middle of the room to begin stretching. He intended to be done before six at the latest, so getting started quickly was crucial. 

Jaemin didn’t seem to agree. While Jisung was stretching, Jaemin was still watching whatever it was he had pulled up on his phone. Jisung looked back at the clock and just about lost his eyes with how hard he rolled them. It was already four-thirty. Chenle would be on his way home, and they hadn’t even started.

“Hyung, can we get started? I need to be home for Chenle,” Jisung said, motioning for Jaemin to come to join him. Jaemin looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and crooked smile. 

“Since when? We’ve been doing this for months, and you’ve never cared,” Jaemin said, likely thinking that Jisung wasn’t being genuine. “What? Now that you two have broken through the veil of innocence, you need to run back?” 

“That is not...no! God, we weren’t even doing anything when Renjun walked in,” Jisung said, forgoing stretching to stare incredulously at his older brother. Jaemin just stuck his tongue out and winked at him. Unbelievable. 

“Not what I heard,” Jaemin teased, finally tossing his phone to the side to come join Jisung on the floor. 

“Well then, you heard wrong,” Jisung said, going back to stretching just to avoid looking Jaemin in the eyes. Of all the people he wanted to talk about his sex life with, Jaemin was not one. Shameless as he was, he simply made the conversations embarrassing. For how clueless Jisung really was, embarrassing didn’t help at all. 

“Renjun told me to be nice to you,” Jaemin said, poking Jisung sharply in the bottom. Jisung flopped like a fish, yelping as he overstretched his left thigh as he tried to get away. He glared at his older brother as menacing as he could manage. Based on Jaemin’s sly smile, it didn’t work. 

“Then why don’t you be nice to me?” Jisung asked, and Jaemin shrugged.

“Who said I’m not? I’m just teasing you,” Jaemin went silent when Jisung didn’t respond, both of them focusing entirely on stretching so they could start practice. Jisung’s thigh ached something special through the entire thing, but he figured he could roll it out later, so he didn’t mention it. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain to Chenle that he’d pulled a muscle trying to get away from Jaemin poking him in the ass. With how touchy Chenle seemed over Jaemin, that would go down _swimmingly._

“Quiet Down?” Jisung asked, standing up and going to the stereo on the other side of the room. Jaemin hummed, and Jisung set up the instrumental to the song. 

It was five-thirty by the time they finished up all the parts Jaemin wanted to go over, which meant Jisung had just enough time to pack up and book it back to the dorms. Chenle hadn’t messaged him a single time through the entire session, which both worried and calmed Jisung at the same time. Either he just dug his own grave, or he was fine. 

“You look like you’re about to get scolded by your girlfriend,” Jaemin teased, taking a few sips of water before beginning to pack up.

“Don’t make fun of him. I look like I’m about to get scolded by my _boy_friend,” Jisung said, and Jaemin put his hands up in surrender. 

Jisung turned and walked to the door, deciding at the last second to pull up Renjun’s messages and ask if he knew how Chenle was doing. A few seconds later, a message popped up, letting Jisung know that he was well and truly screwed. 

_Renjun: I don’t know. He hasn’t come home yet. _

**Chenle**

Chenle sipped happily at the warm drink his older brother had bought for him. Even with enough money to afford it himself, there was still something about being given food or drinks that made them taste sweeter. 

Jeno gave him enough time to enjoy before he placed his own cup down and settled back in his seat. Chenle hated this part. Jisung always did the exact same thing right before they had one of those talks that always seemed to lead to nothing. 

“What’s going on, Lele?” Jeno asked, wiping the whipped cream clinging to Chenle’s lip off. Chenle’s tongue shot out to get the rest, not wanting to waste even a small drop of it. It wasn’t often he got such a treat. 

“Jisung,” Was all Chenle could say. Even the thought of the situation made him so irrationally angry. Here Chenle was with Jeno, a full half an hour after he should have been home, and Jisung hadn’t even messaged him to see if he’d made it home okay. Nope, all of his attention was once again reserved for Jaemin.

Didn’t Jaemin have his own boyfriend? Why did he need to spend all his time with Chenle’s?

“You’re burning a hole through the table,” Jeno said, grimacing a bit. Chenle unclenched his hands and sighed. “That bad?” 

“Can I sound really stupid and overdramatic?” Chenle asked. 

Jeno rolled his eyes but nodded regardless. “Nothing that makes you upset enough to burn a building down with your stare will be dramatic, but please, go ahead.”

Chenle took a moment to consider what he wanted to say. Full-on dramatic, or tone it down a bit? “Do you think Jisung likes Jaemin?” 

Full-on dramatic it is. 

“I mean, yes? They’ve been really close ever since they were little kids. Are you worried about them fighting again?” Jeno asked, suddenly getting his brand new leader voice on. Chenle shook his head, feeling the pit in his stomach sink even deeper. “Then what is it? Why are you worried about Jisung . . . _Oh._” 

Chenle looked down and scratched at the table with his nails. Jeno seemed to be in complete, utter shock, but Chenle had no idea why. Hadn’t he just said that Jaemin and Jisung had been close since they were little? Chenle and Renjun had come in later. Much later. 

“Get out of your head right now,” Jeno said, a bit more forcefully than likely intended, but it worked. “Chenle, why would you ask something like that? I thought you and Jisung were doing really well together.”

“I thought so too, and then I realized that we weren’t, and now I just--” Chenle waved his hand around but couldn’t find the words. 

“Tell me. Talk me through what’s going on so I can try to help you,” Jeno said, putting his phone in his bag and sitting up straight, showing Chenle he had his full attention. 

“He’s just never around,” Chenle shrugged. Of all the issues Chenle had, that was the main one. Well, that was a lie. The main problem Chenle had was there was someone else he’d rather spend his time with. 

“And you think that he’s never around you because he wants to be around Jaemin?” Jeno asked, and Chenle dipped his head forward. “What makes you think that, Lele?” 

“Isn’t it obvious? They’re always in the studio. Hen--someone told me that they go in there from the time practice ends until almost nine at night. I get wanting to be the best you can be, but living in the dance studio?” Chenle said. Jeno seemed to mull this over in his head. 

“I actually completely understand where you’re coming from,” Jeno said this as if it were a shock, and Chenle looked up at him in disbelief. “You said dramatic! This is not dramatic at all. I can completely see why you are upset by this. And you know what else?” Jeno asked, pausing for some weird version of dramatic effect. Chenle just shook his head. “You’re not the only one who feels that way.”

“Renjun?” Chenle asked. Jeno nodded. “Why didn’t he tell me?” 

“He probably didn’t want to make you worry.” 

“I’m not a baby. I’m sick,” Chenle said, wishing that people would stop acting like any negative piece of information would break him. “It would’ve been so much easier had Renjun told me how he felt so we could figure this out together.”

“I know, Chenle. I’ll try to talk to everyone about not treating you differently,” Jeno said, but Chenle just shook his head. No matter how annoying it was to be treated like a fragile piece of glass, he understood. 

“Jisung...he used to call me his baby, a lot. He used to dote on me like I was his everything. He used to call me his princess, and even if it was a little weird at first, I really miss it,” Chenle could feel his eyes burn and his bottom lip begin to tremble. Jeno looked so heartbroken for him, and if anything, it made it impossible to keep the tears from falling. “Now I feel like he just does it to get me to respond to him. Like I’m just someone he has to keep in line.”

“Chenle, stop,” Jeno said, losing his leader’s voice immediately. “Stop. Jisung _loves you_. God, you should see him when you’re not here. He breaks apart, and I know that doesn’t help, but he needs you. It’s like all of his “perfectly crafted” coping mechanisms fall apart when you aren’t here. You’re his person.”

“Hyung, do you think he’s doing it on purpose?” Chenle asked. 

“What, Lele?”

“Pushing me away. Do you think it’s to make it easier on him if I die?” 

Jeno looked like he was about to pass out. Chenle tapped at the table and waited for Jeno to collect himself. 

“Where did you get this from? This isn’t like you, Chenle,” Jeno said, and Chenle laughed through his tears. Jisung had said the same thing. “No, seriously. This doesn’t sound like you. Those aren’t your words. You have never, _never_, said things like this before. People have a pattern in how they speak, and you just...sound different. Like someone else.”

“Maybe I grew up,” Chenle said, but Jeno shook his head wildly. 

“No, this isn’t that. This is what Jaemin sounded like--” Jeno stopped himself instantly, seeing how Chenle tensed up. 

“I need to go to the bathroom, hyung,” Chenle said, lifting himself up and walking away. He kept his head down, refusing to look at any of the other patrons in the eyes. He was so dramatic. So ridiculous. Where had that come from? Jeno was right; it wasn’t like him. 

It sounded like someone, but not him. It should be funny if in a dark, twisted way. Hadn’t that been how the thoughts had been introduced to him? In a joking manner? 

_As if_ Jisung didn’t love him.

_As if_ Jisung liked Jaemin more.

_As if_ Jisung was just preparing himself for when Chenle was gone. 

Chenle sobbed into his hand in front of the bathroom mirror, unable to look at himself. 

Time passed without Chenle being aware of it. The only thing that clued him into the fact that time had passed at all was the opening of the door as someone ran into the room. Chenle turned and just barely managed to make out Jisung’s coat before he was crashing into him, holding him so tight it was almost hard to breathe. 

“Chenle, never. I would _never_,” Jisung sobbed, pressing a litany of kisses all over Chenle’s head and face. “You are _everything_ to me. I swear on my life, I will never go a day without saying it. My baby, my princess. I love you. I’m so, so sorry.” 

It was so easy to collapse into Jisung like nothing had ever happened. Chenle couldn’t stop the tears from falling, but he didn’t care. He loved Jisung like the Earth loved the moon and sun. Unconditionally and irreversibly. 

Chenle had doubted, but Jisung had come for him when he needed him. Jisung always came when Chenle needed him. 

“Chenle. My baby. Please, if you ever feel like this, come to me. I can’t lose you,” Jisung was crying hysterically. It was like nothing Chenle had ever heard before. “I can’t. I can’t lose you, Chenle. I’m sorry. I’m _sorry_.” 

“Jisung, breathe. I’m right here,” Chenle said, intertwining his and Jisung’s hands together. Jisung was hyperventilating, his body jerking with it as he cried. “Feel me. Do you feel my hands in yours?”

“Yes,” Jisung choked out.

“Do you feel my chest on yours?”

“Yes.”

“Tap your fingers: one, two, good. There you go,” Chenle said, coaxing Jisung through what he knew of Jisung’s grounding mechanisms. “Can you tap your feet for me? One, two, three. Good, you’re doing so well, Jisungie.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung cried, but Chenle shushed him. They had plenty of time left for that later. 

“Tell me five things you can see,” Chenle said, and Jisung took in a shaky breath.

“The mirror, the sink, the towels, your coat, and your hands,” Jisung finished, and already he was beginning to sound more calm and coherent.

“Four things you can feel,” Chenle said.

“Your hands, your chest, my feet on the ground, and my coat on my arms.”

“Good. Three things you can hear,” Chenle said, rubbing his hand soothingly over Jisung’s chest. It wasn’t hitching at all anymore, and Jisung seemed to be able to take far deeper breaths now. 

“Your breath, the people in the dining room, and plates hitting each other.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“Your shampoo and hot chocolate.”

“One thing you can taste.”

Jisung looked up at him pleadingly, and it didn’t take anything to know what Jisung wanted. He leaned forward and connected their lips, parting them instantly. Jisung responded instantaneously, and even though it didn’t last long, it still left them breathless.

“You,” Jisung responded, falling back into Chenle’s arms again. “I’ll stop practicing with him. I told him when I left that I couldn’t come back anymore. I’ll come with Jeno to pick you up every day. I’ll eat dinner with you. I’ll wake up with you in the morning. I’m sorry.”

Chenle sighed, suddenly feeling guilty. This wasn’t what he wanted. 

“Jisung, I just want you to spend time with me. I don’t want to wake up, and you are gone, and then not see you until we go to work, or I’m about to go to sleep. I’m fine with you practicing with Jaemin; it was just after yesterday...I just wanted you to come home. It was like what I said didn’t click,” Chenle said, and Jisung nodded his head a bit too frantically.

“It didn’t, but it did now. I get it now. I’m sorry,” Jisung said, and Chenle smiled sadly and clung even tighter to his boyfriend. 

“I don’t want you tied to my hip all day long. I just want a real, solid chunk of time to see you at least a few days a week. It doesn’t even have to be every day,” Chenle said, but Jisung shook his head.

“No, you’re right. If I can spend every single day with Jaemin, I can spend every single day with you. We live together, it’s not like we have a commute to worry about. Even if it’s just sitting out in the living room together, or eating dinner together, or laying in bed together. I want to be with you every day,” Jisung said, and suddenly he was crying again. 

“Oh, Jisung. Why are you still so upset?” Chenle asked, rubbing his back as soothingly as he could manage. 

“Because you could’ve been gone like the doctors said, and I would’ve made you think I don’t love you,” Jisung sobbed violently. Suddenly the door opened to reveal Jeno and Jaemin. They looked at Chenle for permission, and Chenle pleadingly accepted their silent offer of help. 

“Jisung, let’s go back home, okay?” Jeno said, trying to guide Jisung away from Chenle. 

“Okay,” Jisung sobbed, but he grabbed Chenle’s hand in a vice grip as they moved to walk out. When they did, everyone was staring pityingly. Jisung had for sure not been quiet. 

Before they managed to leave the cafe, a worker came up with four drinks in a carrier and a bag, handing it over to Jeno. 

“Thank you?” Jeno said, and the worker nodded, staring at Jisung with a look that Chenle couldn’t quite place. Jeno lagged behind the others in his group, wanting to hear what the worker had to say. Chenle tried his best to listen, as well.

“I remember this part,” Was all the worker said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> I wrote the last chapter of this story yesterday, and man. Man. I try to always write the end first so I know where I'm going, but writing the end of this story has been really hard. I always knew the vague idea, but never when or where exactly I wanted the characters to be at the end. I think I made up my mind, so what the end is now should stay the end. 
> 
> Only warning I have for the next two chapters are that there will be a grazing over of smut (like literally just implying that it happened) (because I can't write it, it's awkward, sorry people who keep asking for it), and more vomiting, I guess? Chenle is working himself too hard, there will be vomiting and some fainting spells. But he's fine. For this part. Just, don't worry about it for right now! Bloody nose...I think that's it? Panic attacks. Just one. Ah, I'm getting lazy with my warnings. Just assume from now on, vomiting, fainting, bloody noses, panic attacks. I think that'll keep everyone safe in every chapter.


	22. PART II: I Can't Live Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That was fun,” Jisung laughed, wiping at his eyes as if there was a hope in the world of erasing the proof of the last hour. It hurt Chenle to see. Jisung was so worried about appearing strong in front of Chenle that even after sitting on the last strands of his sanity for the better part of a night, he still was trying to wipe it all away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have to say, I poured a lot of energy into researching words for this chapter that I never even used. So much for learning more vocabulary and actually putting it to use!
> 
> I read the first few chapters of this story and just about died, so I went through and edited a lot of the awkward sounding phrases and dialogue. I'm not done, so if any of you are curious about any changes, feel free to go back and look! I've only done up to chapter three, and it was only the glaringly obvious things, but I will continue to edit the chapters up until I hit part two. I'm still pretty alright with how it sounds, so give it a few months and then I might edit that too, lol.
> 
> Welcome to Jisung and Chenle being a disgustingly cute couple again, because I think I forgot that part of the story around chapter like, 5. Sorry!

Chenle had never asked about the time his heart stopped or the devastating fallout from it. He never allowed himself to mull over the gritty details because if he did, he would find it too hard to smile, and Chenle would always remember what Kun said to him.

_“No, you keep smiling. No matter what happens, you smile.”_

Looking at Jisung, Chenle wished he had sucked it up and said something. If not for him, then for Jisung, because for all the fancy talk about loving him more than the ground he walked on, he had never stepped up and took on the burdens that Jisung held so tightly. Chenle knew what to say, but he never said it. 

_ I’m right beside you. _

Jisung and Chenle seemed to be eternally on the same wavelength. Not only had they happened to meet each other at opportune times in their past, they always seemed to be doing the same things, or thinking the same things, or wanting the same things. It led to the easy conclusion that while Chenle felt lonely and abandoned, Jisung probably felt the same in his own way, even if he’d yet to admit it to himself.

There were plenty of times that Chenle overheard the all-encompassing phrase: I know you can’t go to Chenle, but you can go to me. It made Chenle believe that he had somehow massed the worst karmic luck in the universe. It wasn’t as if he’d _tried _to listen in on Renjun and Jaemin, so why he was now cursed to hearing all the things he didn’t want to hear was a complete mystery. 

It hurt him even more that not only did Jisung believe he could not go to Chenle, but his friends were actively reinforcing this idea in Jisung’s head. Even if Chenle didn’t want to face his own realities, it didn’t mean he would turn down Jisung’s pleas for help and understanding. If Jisung needed Chenle to confront all the things he’d ever buried like bones, then he would do it, and he’d do it with a_ smile. _

Seeing the one person he looked at as a pillar of hope and strength breaking apart in front of him was the most painful thing Chenle had ever witnessed. No matter how many surgeries or chemotherapy treatments he’d suffered through, seeing Jisung lose himself to his panic was still somehow the most terrifying. 

It was all screaming for a while. That part had been the worst. Chenle had looked to his older friends for help, but all of them were just as clueless as Chenle. He’d been convinced that someone would know what to do. After all, Jeno had seemed to know that Jisung had panic attacks when Chenle wasn’t around, so someone must have knowledge on how to deal with them, right?

It didn’t seem so. Renjun was the first to get shoved off the bed, and then Jaemin was told in no uncertain terms that he was _not _welcome in Jisung’s immediate space. Jeno trying to hold him ended with Jisung just about dislocating an arm trying to break free. Pressed against the wall, crying so hard he couldn’t pull a breath in, Jisung seemed to have finally hit his breaking point, and no one knew how to help him. 

So, figuring that nothing would come of being a fly on the wall, Chenle stepped forward and settled himself on the bed as far away from Jisung as he could manage. Jisung instantly snapped his gaze to Chenle, and Chenle seized the chance to capture Jisung’s full attention. 

“Hey, you’re safe,” Chenle said, not making any moves that may aggravate Jisung further. He had no idea what to say or do, but those words felt the most right. “You’re safe. You’re in your room, on Jaemin’s bed. The front door is locked. The curtains are down. You are safe in your space.” 

Jisung seemed to soak in the words, so Chenle began to breathe deeply and highly exaggerated, hoping that Jisung would follow in his stead. It worked. Jisung was taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. Even if they were broken up by hitches and soft sobs, it was still a great effort, and Chenle made sure to let him know in softly uttered praises. 

“Good. Is there anything I can get for you?” Chenle asked, and Jisung shook his head wildly. “Okay. Do you want me to get up?” Another head shake. “Do you want me to stay here?” Head shake. “Do you want me to come to you?” Jisung nodded his head, his face contorting as if he wanted to cry again. Before he had the chance, Chenle lifted himself up and sat down beside Jisung, allowing him to take the initiative. Jisung fell into Chenle’s arms instantly. 

“You’re safe. You’re always safe with me,” Chenle whispered, running his hands soothingly through Jisung’s hair. Jisung let out an exhale, long and stable, and his body relaxed into Chenle’s hold. Chenle could just barely hear the sound of the door clicking shut as their friends left them together, finally accepting that there was no more help left to be offered from them. 

It lasted far too long. Chenle had no idea that a panic attack could go on for as long as Jisung’s had. Even with the pause between leaving the cafe and getting to the dorm, it still seemed as if it had never stopped. It was just on a slow simmer, waiting quietly for the next thing to bring it back to the forefront. Chenle was terrified that their moment of peace would soon be broken by another stray thought or physical reminder of Jisung’s trauma, and they’d be right back at the beginning.

In reality, Chenle was at a loss for the right thing to do. Jisung needed to be grounded, and Chenle wondered nervously if he had a way to do that. It wasn’t until Jisung was taking his first easy breaths of the night that Chenle began to psyche himself up to the idea. It didn’t take much personal coaxing, but it took a lot of effort to figure out how to present it without it sounding bad.

“That was fun,” Jisung laughed, wiping at his eyes as if there was a hope in the world of erasing the proof of the last hour. It hurt Chenle to see. Jisung was so worried about appearing strong in front of Chenle that even after sitting on the last strands of his sanity for the better part of a night, he still was trying to wipe it all away.

Chenle didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He was too terrified of validating Jisung’s attempt at hiding how he felt to do so. Instead, he placed a hand on Jisung’s arm and turned him slowly to face him. 

“Jisungie,” Chenle said. When Jisung didn’t look up, he spoke again, “Hey, Park Jisung!” 

That got his attention.

“I have...well, I want to--” Chenle was about to forgo the words. If he wasn’t so afraid of taking advantage of Jisung, he would have. “I know I said we have the rest of our lives to decide the right time, but--” Chenle trailed off, unable to finish. He was terrified. Chenle knew how bad he could sound if he was taken the wrong way. 

But Jisung didn’t seem to be taking it that way. He seemed _ interested, _perhaps even a little excited. They were such dramatic changes to Jisung’s previous mood that Chenle had to stop and stare, just for the opportunity to take it all in. When the silence stretched too long, Jisung broke it with a softly uttered, “But?”

Chenle took a deep breath and said,” But, I’ve been thinking, and--” Chenle caught Jisung’s gaze and instantly trailed off again. He was looking at Chenle so pleadingly, so _hopeful, _that leaning forward and capturing Jisung’s lips was all Chenle could do. 

Once the initial awkwardness and fear settled somewhere too far away to reach, the two of them broke into giggles and soft smiles. It wasn’t scary. Chenle trusted Jisung with his body, and giving it to him was the easiest thing he’d ever done. 

Jisung was an enigma to Chenle. Someone so strong and powerful in their work, yet so soft and sweet in their words and actions. Jisung was someone who could eat the camera alive with a stare, dance with the force of a kickboxer, and yet was still scared of tiny puppies and heights.

He didn’t just like to hold Chenle’s hand; he had to trace his thumb over Chenle’s fingers, pressing a kiss to each one, promising that they would be still and pain-free if he poured enough love into each one. He didn’t just kiss Chenle’s cheek; he did so with the promise of leaving something behind, so Chenle could pull his hand to his cheek and feel Jisung’s love when he wasn’t around. He didn’t just make Chenle coffee in the morning; he “infused” it with powerful energy that would support Chenle through his day. When asked what said energy was, he always sappily replied that it was just a fraction of the love Jisung held for Chenle in his heart, and there were no worries about using too much.

He could never give too much. There would always be enough, even if Chenle’s coffee was nothing but. Even if Jisung pressed his kiss so hard that Chenle was sure his teeth would cut into his cheek. Even if each finger received ten kisses, there would still be some left. 

It was disgustingly sweet, and it made their friends call Jisung too feminine, but Chenle didn’t care. Chenle felt the love Jisung held for him in every atom that made up his being, even when they weren’t on the best of terms. Even if the actions were little, they held significant meaning, and perhaps it was one of the reasons why Chenle was still trudging along when seasoned professionals told him his family should be planning his funeral. 

Jisung went through his life as a walking conundrum, and he didn’t stop for this. He kissed the tears off Chenle’s face when the pain hit, and then when the pain gave way to their overwhelming acknowledgment that Jisung was _his. _The same person that could throw himself into Black on Black and Boom, forgoing his youthful camera persona, was still so gentle and caring, seemingly never thinking of himself. 

Jisung could’ve had anyone, and he picked someone more broken than one-seventh of the population. A rarity, more so than getting into a plane crash or struck by lightning. Maybe even getting into a plane crash and being struck by lightning all at once. 

Chenle held Jisung as close as he could, thankful beyond anything that he had someone willing to stand by his side. He had witnessed plenty of stories and shows depicting what should have been standard etiquette in this situation. A soft apology as the other person walked away, unable to handle watching someone they loved so much die without a chance of doing anything to stop it. 

Chenle would have liked to stay on that plane of existence forever. Even if Jisung and Chenle seemed to exist on the same wavelength most of their lives, this just felt different. It felt like nothing, not even God, could come between them. For how uncertain everything had been, Chenle needed the security. He needed to feel as if a cough wasn’t the end of the world, and with Jisung wrapping him in his love and protection, he could almost fool himself into believing it. 

Something shifted when the moment came to an end. Chenle expected to feel something horrible crash into him. Like the knowledge that they’d wasted their first time with each other, but nothing like that happened. They got dressed and settled back on the bed like nothing had ever happened, but it did, and Chenle could still feel it in the air. He could especially feel it in the unbearable need to be close to Jisung. He fell into Jisung's arms like Jisung did him, and instantly, he felt secure. 

“You’re mine,” Jisung said, disbelieving. Chenle smiled and pillowed his head on Jisung’s chest, looking at the calendar just above Jaemin’s desk. 

November fifteenth. Only seven days from his birthday. He would be an adult, something he was never given the promise to see. All the odds had worked against him, and yet here he was, staring at the ever-narrowing gap between nineteen and twenty. Renjun, Jaemin, and Jeno had said that not much changed, and life continued on as normal as it did before, but it felt big to him. 

Monumental, even. They had never had to wonder if they’d live to see it. 

“Are you nervous?” Jisung spoke, looking at the calendar with him. Chenle knew he wasn’t talking about his birthday.

“No,” Chenle said, and it was honest. Tomorrow was it. The day that would decide whether or not his treatment was really over or if he’d have to go back. 

“Why?” Jisung asked, and Chenle had to think a long time about the answer. 

“Because no matter what, I’m not letting cancer beat me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> 'Tis nearest the end. Of part 2. 
> 
> One more chapter of part two, and then full speed ahead to part three, because I'm on a roll with chapters lately. I have been debating the ending of the entire story even though I've already written it. It feels so wrong when I write it, even though it's what I've intended from the very start. I don't know. It's driving me crazy, though. 
> 
> You know, comment what you want the ending to be. I already know what it is, but I just want to see what the general consensus is. I have a few very dedicated commenters, so I'd really appreciate if you'd all let me know!


	23. PART II: Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m so glad that you have your friends with you. It’s very important to have your support system by your side,” Dr. Kang said, and Chenle could only nod his agreement. The group of people around him had been his anchor, even if they didn’t know it; all the fighting, the mental deterioration, the physical deterioration. All of that just to stay by Chenle’s side. 
> 
> All of that to fight his fight with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: https://open.spotify.com/track/6Qe06wKerHNZWPWGZu6o1f?si=3F_YJYoLTFeLFViwQHYBnQ
> 
> (TOGETHER by Joakim Molitor)

Sitting in between his members, Chenle felt like the overwhelming burden of knowledge was lifted from his shoulders. It would no longer be only him that walked away knowing whether he had a time limit on his back. Jaemin, Renjun, Jeno, and Jisung were all around him, their presence grounding and safe, and Chenle latched onto it and breathed in all of the calming energy they put out. 

Dr. Kang, someone that Chenle had only ever seen on days like this, walked in with his head held high, an upturn to his lip, and everyone immediately sat straighter. He stopped in the middle of the room and put his clipboard under his arm. 

“I believe we should wait just a few more minutes,” Dr. Kang said, and everyone looked at him impatiently. This was the moment they’d been waiting for since March, and they were expected to wait even longer? 

It didn’t take minutes; if anything, it took seconds. They could hear the pounding of feet on tile from down the hallway the moment the doors were allowed to open. Then, like the first thaw at the end of a long winter, Mark and Donghyuck threw themselves around the corner and into the room. 

Chenle wanted to cry. Even though it hadn’t been more than a few days since he’d last seen his friends, he had been told that it would be months. He thought that they wouldn’t be there to share this moment, whatever it ended up being, and he was both devastated and relieved. If it turned out to be good, they wouldn’t be there, and if it turned out to be bad, they still wouldn’t be there.

All of that wandering anxiety vanished as Donghyuck and Mark took their seats and patiently awaited what the doctor had to say. Dr. Kang, who had watched the boys enter with a neutral expression, was now smiling lightly as he caught Chenle’s gaze. 

“I’m so glad that you have your friends with you. It’s very important to have your support system by your side,” Dr. Kang said, and Chenle could only nod his agreement. The group of people around him had been his anchor, even if they didn’t know it; all the fighting, the mental deterioration, the_ physical _deterioration. All of that just to stay by Chenle’s side. 

All of that to fight his fight with him. 

“You all are so very, very young. You’ve gone through one of the most horrendous experiences that people your age, or any age, can go through, and yet here you all are. Each one of you has walked the path that many others would have turned away from, and you have stayed together through it all,” Dr. Kang said, and there was a small shift on the bed as Renjun took Jaemin’s hand and squeezed in comfort. 

There was a small pause where no one said anything before Dr. Kang spoke again, “Through the good and the bad, family sticks together. I want you to always remember this. You have walked the trials of a _family, _and today, you get to take an easy path.” 

Everyone sucked in a breath, gazes flew between each other before landing back on the doctor. Chenle felt his heart leap, and he fought the questions he wanted to ask in favor of letting the man continue on his own. Suddenly he didn’t feel like rushing it. 

“Chenle, the surgery was a success. Today, at this moment, you are cancer-free,” The doctor said, and suddenly the room erupted into cheers and shouts as bodies crashed into Chenle in awfully timed attempts at hugging him. Chenle was laughing and crying all at once, feeling as if the world had finally started spinning again. 

“Thank you!” Donghyuck shouted, flying off the bed to wrap the doctor in a fierce embrace. The man laughed and took it in stride, wrapping Donghyuck up tightly in return. 

The room was awash with hope and happiness, and it was the first time in recent memory that Chenle didn’t fear the future. Jisung was pressing kisses to Chenle’s face to rid him of the tears, Mark was ruffling his newly regrowing hair, Renjun and Jaemin were trying their hardest to pry Donghyuck off the doctor, only to give him their own hugs in return. He felt good, happy, _hopeful. _This was the moment he’d been waiting for. The moment he could confidently stop asking what if. 

Once the room settled a bit, the silence only punctuated by sniffles coming suspiciously from Mark and Donghyuck’s general direction, the doctor continued speaking. “I still want you to come in for regular observations, but that is precautionary and not because I think that there is a significant chance of your cancer returning.”

“Okay,” Chenle nodded. He could do that. Just having the peace of mind every once in a while that things were still going as they should was a blessing in itself. 

“I know you still have some stuff up in the ward. You are free to begin packing up,” Dr. Kang said, and Chenle pulled his hands to his mouth to cover the sound of his crying. He was leaving. He was never coming back here to stay again. He got to take all the stuff he left _home._

Dr. Kang walked up to Chenle and got down to one knee. He grasped Chenle’s hand and squeezed it, giving him a soft smile as he did. “You made it. You fought your way here, and now you get to go home. I cannot _wait _to see you on stage again.”

All Chenle could do was fall into the doctor's arms.

“Go pack up and get something good to eat. You went far too long without being able to. Go do all the things you weren’t able to do before,” The doctor said, and Chenle nodded as if promising to do so. “You know what else I want you to do? I want you to go to school and talk to your guidance staff about what you should do in college.”

That hit Chenle harder than anything else that had been said so far. University. He would actually be able to go. He was going to be an adult. He was going to _graduate!_

“Our Chenle is so smart, he could do anything,” Jaemin said, running his hands through Chenle’s hair. Everyone nodded their agreements. Chenle looked up to catch Jaemin’s gaze, but he stopped when he saw Jisung smiling at him with that _eye smile _that Chenle had not seen in so long. After all this time, Jisung was happy. 

“Go get your stuff. We’ll wait down in the lobby,” Jisung said, helping those on the back of the bed come down onto the floor. Chenle nodded, lifting himself up so the process of leaving would be easier. Once everyone was down and had gathered all of their belongings, Dr. Kang gave one last goodbye before guiding the members out of the room and down to the lobby. 

Chenle was alone again, but it didn’t feel like it did before. He knew that all he had to do was go upstairs, put some things in a bag, and all of his friends would be waiting for him. His _family _would be waiting for him. 

Chenle smiled and grabbed his empty backpack, making his way upstairs with the clapping and well wishes from the staff behind him. He had to stop at the bathroom, collapsing onto the sink with his hand pressed to his mouth to keep himself from bursting into tears again. Instead, he looked up at himself and _smiled _because he had survived, and he was going home. 

The only things left behind from Chenle’s extended stays in the hospital were a blanket that Mark had given him after his surgery, a small bear plushie that Renjun and Jeno had bought together, and a coloring book that he and Jisung had spent far too much time on during the months of random stays. He flipped through the pages, smiling at the finished pages and the quotes that Jisung had written when Chenle was asleep. 

_ 3/15/2019: Don’t give up. The beginning is always the hardest. _

_ 4/16/2019: Always remember you are braver than you think, stronger than you seem, and more loved than you know. _

_ 5/1/2019: Cancer is an ugly disease, but the beauty of life after cancer is worth fighting for. _

_ 6/27/2019: Cancer is only going to be a chapter in your life, NOT the whole story. _

_ 7/7/2019: Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow. _

_ 8/5/2019: Fuck cancer. _

_ 9/14/2019: Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we’re here, we should dance. _

_ 10/17/2019: We don’t know how strong we are until it’s the only choice we have. _

_ 11/16/2019: I can’t promise to fix all your problems, but I can promise you won’t face them all alone. _

Chenle had to wipe the tears away again. His eyes were beginning to feel puffy and dry, and each touch sent a shock of familiar pain up through his head. It was that sensitive, sharp kind of pain that always seemed to linger in his hands. The type that Jisung would valiantly attempt to love away. 

He tapped the book in his hands a few times before putting it in his bag, then immediately pulling it back out. He looked at the date on the last quote, then looked up at the clock hanging on the wall. Jisung had written it today. 

Chenle turned to look around, only to smile widely when Jisung walked around the doorframe and settled against it. 

“Hey,” Chenle couldn’t find any more words, but Jisung smiled and waved regardless.

“Hey. I’m here to pick up my date. We have tickets to Jumanji in half an hour, and I’m not one to be late,” Jisung said, pulling the tickets out of his back pocket. Chenle giggled and threw the book in his bag, zipping it up and throwing it over his shoulder. He ran forward, grabbing Jisung’s hand in his, and without even looking back, they walked away together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)
> 
> There we have it. The end of part two. 
> 
> I am sincerely so grateful for all of you that have read up to this point. I know that the style of writing has gone through some changes, and there have been some bumpy spots with pov and all that, but to know that so many of you avidly read this and even truly love it...it's just amazing. I can't even begin to explain to you how it feels. For this story to have hit 11k views was nothing more than a dream, and even if the kudos stagnated a while ago, to see the view count jump 1,000 in only a week is worth going on. 
> 
> I don't plan to take as long as a break between part two and part three, mostly because the last one was because I was moving and didn't really have the time. I do want to give this chapter enough time to rest though, because I feel like this was a big, monumental moment, and it deserves the spotlight for a while. I hope that you all patiently wait for the next part and that you enjoy it as much as you have enjoyed the others. 
> 
> I am forever beside you! Thank you so, so much. I hope you all stay safe and have a lovely next few weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.buymeacoffee.com/meltediceangel (helps pay for medical school)


End file.
